


A Street Over and a World Away

by TVTime



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abused Isaac, Adopted Isaac, Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Background Relationships, Brother Feels, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Child Abuse, Danny Mahealani & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, Developing Friendships, Drama, Drunk Liam Dunbar, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Isaac & Ethan Friendship, Isaac Feels, Isaac Lahey & Danny Mahealani Friendship, Isaac Lahey & Liam Dunbar Friendship, Isaac Lahey & Lydia Martin Friendship, Jackson & Aiden Friendship, Jackson Feels, Minor Aiden/Malia Tate, Minor Ethan/Danny Mahealani, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Physical Abuse, Protective Jackson, father-son bonding, mother-son bonding, supportive parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-30 23:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8553079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TVTime/pseuds/TVTime
Summary: Life changes dramatically for Isaac after his neighbors, the Whittemores, discover he is being abused and decide to adopt him. He may only have moved across the street, but it's a world away from the life he had known. Yet every family has its problems and things aren't what they seem at the Whittemore home. Is Isaac's new family too dysfunctional to survive or are they worth fighting for? Jackson is livid about the intrusion of the high school loser into his life. Yet despite the odds, he and Isaac may have more in common than he thinks. Can Jackson form the family bond he's always longed for with Isaac or will long-held family secrets destroy his chance to have a brother?AU story with no werewolf or supernatural elements. The focus is on family dynamics, friendship, and brotherly bonds, not romantic relationships. The story alternates between Jackson's and Isaac's POVs.





	1. The Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU story focuses on Isaac, Jackson, and the Whittemores and is a family drama/fluff piece with no sex or romance and no supernatural elements. I expect it to be shortish (maybe 10 or fewer chapters) and at this point I'm just sort of testing the waters with it. If there's interest I'll continue. If not I'll probably put it on the back burner or permanently shelve it.

"You think it's funny to damage expensive equipment, Isaac?" 

Pain exploded across Isaac’s torso as his father punched him, slamming his old championship swim team ring against Isaac's ribs and dropping him to his knees.

"No sir," Isaac said between gasps. It would be worse if he didn't answer.

They were at the door to the basement. Isaac knew with a crippling certainty that he would be spending time in the freezer tonight for his latest transgression. He had hoped to get down the stairs before the blows started, before his father knocked him off his feet and dragged him down the stairs on his knees or backside. No such luck.

"Then why the hell did you do it?!” He backhanded Isaac across the face, and Isaac’s head struck the railing of the stairs. He crumpled to the floor on his side.

This was it. He would grab Isaac's wrists soon and start the brutal descent into the darkened basement.

"Well?!" He kicked Isaac in the chest when he didn't answer.

Isaac's eyes widened in terror, and his stomach lurched as he was pushed backward, almost over the top edge of the stairs. His father was more drunk than usual. Was he going to drag Isaac down the stairs like normal or...

"A-a-accident!" Isaac stammered as a coughing fit seized him.

"Accident?!" His father tried to stomp on Isaac's hand but missed as Isaac happened to be moving it. " _Accident?!_ Oh sure that backhoe just flipped itself over."

Isaac looked up, pleading with his eyes, searching desperately for any sign of the man his father used to be. "It was an accident. I sw–"

"You disgust me." He snarled and kicked Isaac in the chest again.

Isaac scrabbled at the base of the railing, but it was too late. Gravity took over and he tumbled backward down the stairs. Wood and concrete pounded his limbs and body as he tried to shield his head with his arms. Halfway down he was able to arrest his descent by hooking a heel into one of the gaps along the side railing, but before he could even sit up, his father kicked his foot loose, sending him crashing the rest of the way down. Somewhere along the way his arm got tangled up and the side of his head smashed against the ledge of a step.

Isaac's last thought before blacking out was that waking up twisted and bent in the cramped freezer would make everything hurt so much worse.

* * *

Jackson frowned as he turned up the pressure on the hot tub jets and sank deeper into the water until just his head and neck were sticking out. The water pulsed against his thigh, easing a sore muscle he'd developed at lacrosse practice that afternoon.

"Spotify on," Jackson commanded, leaning back against a hot tub pillow. "My playlist."

Jackson was _not_ having a good day. His neighbors were being loud again for the third time this week. Normally, Jackson could ignore it and go on about his business. Unfortunately fate had not been on Jackson's side tonight. Jackson's room was upstairs on the east side of the Whittemore mansion, closest to the road and by extension to the Lahey house across the street. His father's study was directly beneath Jackson's room, but the man rarely used it, especially this early in the evening. It was just Jackson's luck that his father happened to be home early that night for the first time in fucking forever and had heard the disturbance at the Lahey home that Jackson alone would usually have been privy to.

Jackson had left his room and retreated to the hot tub as soon as his father started yelling for his mother to come and listen. Five minutes later the sound of sirens disturbed Jackson's would-be peaceful soak. Dammit, why couldn't his parents just mind their own business?

Jackson's mother came out onto the deck on wobbly legs. She was back in her high heels and made up for leaving the house. This wasn’t going to end well. 

"Pause," Jackson commanded irritably, hoping she would hurry up with whatever she wanted and leave him alone again.

"Jackson, honey, I don't want to alarm you, but your father and I have to go to the hospital," she said, leaning against a deck chair.

"The hospital?" Jackson wasn’t alarmed but certainly annoyed.

She nodded and gave him a gentle look. Jackson rolled his eyes.

"Honey, there's been an...an incident," she whispered. "That's where they're taking Isaac."

Jackson's frown deepened. He hated it when his parents talked about Isaac like he was one of Jackson's friends. It was beyond ridiculous. Isaac had been to a couple of Jackson's birthday parties when they were little children, but now, even after all these years just because he was the same age as Jackson and lived across the street, his parents liked to act as if they were lifelong friends or something. Jackson couldn't even stand that weird loser. He was a loner who didn't make eye contact when people spoke to him. How could he possibly have any bearing on Jackson's life? _I wish he'd just sit in that damn freezer his old man is always shouting about and quit ruining my night._

"So you're going to the hospital to see Isaac?" Jackson asked slowly, as though talking to a child rather than his mother. "Whom you barely know. Do you seriously not see how crazy that is?"

His mother smiled tightly like she always did when Jackson said something that upset her. "Do you want to come?"

"Think I'm gonna pass. You have fun though," he said sarcastically, closing his eyes and sinking back down against the pillow.

Her voice was slow and overly precise as she answered. "Okay, we'll be home as soon as we can. We'll arm the alarm before we go. Call if you need anything."

"Mom, I'm sixteen not six. I think I'll be fine."

Her heels clicked on the deck floor, and then a cool whoosh of air signaled that she was sliding open the door and going back inside.

"Music on," Jackson commanded wearily.

He just knew his parents were going to make him visit Isaac in the hospital or some other similar bullshit. Jackson's life wasn't fair.

* * *

Before he even opened his eyes, Isaac knew he was in the hospital. He recognized the sterile tang in the air, the sound of hospital carts moving through the hallway, and the crisp, tight sensation of the sheets on his legs. It was bad if he was here. His father always did everything possible to avoid taking Isaac to the hospital, which would result in difficult-to-answer questions.

He sat up and assessed the damage. There was a cast on his right leg and another on his right arm. His right hand also immobilized in a splint. His ribs hurt, and his head pounded.

Isaac was already planning what he would say. He would feign confusion and memory loss until his father cued him in on the story they were using. Then he would just smile shyly at anyone who talked to him and explain what a klutz he was.

"Mr. Whittemore?" Isaac blinked in confusion at the man who owned the house across the street from his own, and who, for some incomprehensible reason, was sitting in a chair by Isaac's bedside. _Oh god, does this mean Jackson’s here too? That's all I need._

"Isaac," the man answered with a nod, as though greeting Isaac on his way to grab the mail rather than in an emergency medical facility. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," Isaac answered automatically. It was far from the truth. It felt like every part of his body was bruised. "Where's my dad?"

The man looked momentarily at a loss for how to respond. He was dressed in a suit, but had taken off the jacket and tie. They were resting on the back of the chair behind him. _Crud, what if he's here as a lawyer? Is Dad in trouble?_

"Lana, Lana, Isaac's awake." Mr. Whittemore turned to face the small sofa in the corner of the room near the foot of Isaac's bed. Isaac hadn't noticed the woman there before and was startled to realize he had additional company.

"Oh my, did I fall asleep?" Mrs. Whittemore exclaimed as she sat up, patting her hair and straightening her clothes. Isaac's eyes widened as she stood up and almost fell over.

Mr. Whittemore looked annoyed but crossed the room and gripped her arm, helping her to Isaac's bedside.

"I sat up too fast," she explained with a flushed face. Worry creased her delicate features as she took Isaac's hand. "Are you in pain? Do you need more medication?"

"Uh...okay," Isaac said with a shrug, instantly regretting the move as his muscles spasmed and throbbed. Medicine – or more medicine if he already had some in his system – would be nice.

"Nurse, Nurse!" Mr. Whittemore called sharply as he walked out of the room.

This was weird. Why were Jackson's parents hovering around him like this? Where was his father?

A little while later Mr. Whittemore returned with a woman in purple nurse's scrubs and another woman in a gray pantsuit.

"Hi Isaac, I'm Nurse McCall. So I hear you're having some discomfort?" She retrieved Isaac's chart from a plastic box on the wall. "On a scale of 1-10 where would you say your pain level is?"

Isaac considered the question for a few moments. "Maybe a four?" 

"Oh good heavens, a four!" Mrs. Whittemore clapped a hand to her chest as she made the declaration. "Did you hear that, David? He's at a four!"

Mr. Whittemore and Nurse McCall both rolled their eyes, and Isaac had to resist the urge to snicker at their independent yet synchronized reactions to the theatrical woman.

Nurse McCall's demeanor became more professional as she returned her attention to Isaac. "I can't give you anything else in your IV right now, but I'll be around in another twenty minutes with some oral medication."

"Twenty minutes?" Mr. Whittemore scowled at her. "The boy's hurting _now._ "

"I'll ask the doctor to come and check on him," She said crisply before walking out of the room.

"I-I'm fine," Isaac said quietly, hoping to calm the Whittemores down. He knew his father would be pissed when he found out Isaac was causing trouble in the hospital.

"Isaac, my name is Priscilla Newcastle," the woman in the gray pantsuit said as she stepped closer to Isaac's bed. "I'm with Child Protective Services."

_Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! This is bad._

"Could you tell me what happened?" Ms. Newcastle asked, taking a seat in the chair that Mr. Whittemore had occupied.

Isaac swallowed nervously and looked around the room, wishing his father would appear and tell him what to say. Mrs. Whittemore gave him a tight smile and patted the bed by his leg. Mr. Whittemore nodded at him and gave him an expectant look.

"Where's my dad?" Isaac asked, making one last ditch effort to avoid answering until he found out what his story was supposed to be.

"He's not here," Ms. Newcastle answered, face serious yet somehow reassuring. She was a middle-aged woman with dark skin and strands of silver in her black hair. She looked like she could have been someone's mother, or maybe even grandmother. Isaac didn't want to lie to her, but he didn't want to tell her the truth either. He had never said it out loud, and he didn't know what would happen if he did. Besides, saying it in front of Jackson's parents seemed like a bad idea. What if Jackson found out and told everyone at school?

"I fell down the stairs to our basement," Isaac said softly, eyes trained on the sleeve of Ms. Newcastle's blouse.

"Where was your father when you fell?" Ms. Newcastle asked.

Isaac licked his lips, aware that she was trying to trip him up. "Oh he was...somewhere else. I'm not sure."

"So why were you going down to the basement?"

"I needed to get a lightbulb. That's where we keep them."

"And how did you fall exactly?"

Isaac gritted his teeth. He had been conservative with his pain estimate. It was actually more of a six or seven. The last thing he needed while he felt this bad was someone's nosy grandmother giving him the third degree. "I tripped over the rug at the top of the landing."

"I see." Ms. Newcastle gave a slow nod before pulling a pad of paper out of her purse and consulting it. "Your father said your shoe was untied and you got tangled up in the laces. He said you were going down to the basement to get batteries for the TV remote and that he was standing next to you when it happened but couldn't grab you in time."

"Um..." Isaac's throat was dry and the looks he was getting from the Whittemores were unsettling. Mrs. Whittemore's eyes were shining with unspilled tears, and her husband's mouth was clenched in the same tight-lipped anger Isaac was used to seeing on his father's face. "Yeah, uh, it happened the way he said. I forgot."

"Isaac, does your father ever hit you?" Ms. Newcastle asked.

"Of course not," Isaac answered numbly.

Mrs. Whittemore sniffled and perched carefully on the edge of the bed. She grasped Isaac's unbroken hand again. "Isaac, does your father ever hit you?"

Isaac felt his lip quivering. She was so upset. Watching her break down made it harder for him to keep it together himself.

"Some-sometimes," Isaac whispered, a sob punctuating the revelation. Isaac's world fell apart as the darkest secret he had was dragged into the light.

There were a lot of questions after that, and Isaac didn't have the strength or the will to lie about the answers, not now that he had already crumbled and started spilling his guts. When at last the questions about Isaac's father and their home life ended, Ms. Newcastle cleared her throat and gave Mr. Whittemore an expectant look. He nodded and ushered his wife toward the door.

"Can't we stay?" Mrs. Whittemore asked her husband. "I don't want to leave Isaac alone."

"He's not alone, Lana," Mr. Whittemore told her as they walked out of the room.

Isaac's anxiety spiked as soon as Mr. Whittemore pulled the door closed behind them. He still had no idea why they were here, but he had gotten used to their presence. At least they were familiar faces even if he didn't know them very well.

"Isaac, your father isn't going to hurt you anymore. I promise," Ms. Newcastle said, giving him a serious look. "He's going to jail."

"Jail!" Isaac's heart sank. His father would never forgive him for this. Never. And... _oh god,_ that meant Isaac was going into foster care.

"The Whittemores would like you to stay with them for awhile, and I'm inclined to agree unless you have any objections."

"Wait what?" Isaac tilted his head, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. Was she telling him he'd be moving in with Jackson and his family?

"Is there any reason you wouldn't want to live with the Whittemores when you're released from the hospital? I can take you to a group home and we can look for another placement if you'd prefer?"

Isaac's mind was reeling. Group home? Was that like an orphanage? Did Jackson count as a reason not to move in with the Whittemores? More importantly would Isaac rather take his chances with his high school bully or in this _group home?_

"I'll go with the Whittemores," Isaac said after a little while. He was pretty sure there would have been cliques and probably some bullies at the group home too. At least with Jackson he knew what he was getting. Maybe he could even sneak back to his own house sometimes and hide out.

Ms. Newcastle smiled. "I think that's a good decision."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated.


	2. The Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very pleasantly surprised by the reception this story got – thanks everyone! As such I am of course continuing it and hope that you guys enjoy the rest!

Jackson groaned as he walked downstairs the next morning and heard the sound of his parents' voices in the dining room. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked his father, who hadn't been at home during Jackson's breakfast on a workday in at least the last three years. His gaze shifted to his mother, who was already dressed and made up for the day, another anomaly for this hour. “And what are you doing awake?”

“We need to talk to you, honey.” His mother patted the table in front of the empty chair next to her and across from Jackson's father.

“Oh god.” Jackson sighed and cast a look at their maid, Vicky, who was hovering in the corner of the room. “Protein shake, feta and kale omelet, and an orange.”

Vicky nodded and walked out of the room as Jackson reluctantly sat down at the table next to his parents. 

“Son, Mr. Lahey was arrested last night for domestic abuse,” Jackson's father said. As always, he was calm but didn't mince words. It was one of the things Jackson admired most about him, not that he'd ever admit it. 

“Okay.” Jackson shrugged. He had already assumed there was a good chance his neighbor would be arrested when he had heard the sirens the night before.

“And Isaac's still in the hospital,” his father continued. 

Jackson rolled his eyes as his mother hummed in distress even though this obviously wasn't news to her. 

“What does this have to do with me?” he asked.

His father frowned at him and gave him a hard look. Jackson didn't know if his father had planned to preface his announcement any further, but he cut to the chase after that. “He's moving in with us once he's released.”

“What?!” The legs of Jackson’s chair scrapped against the polished marble floor as he pushed himself away from the table but didn't get up.

“He's moving in with us once he's released.”

Jackson gritted his teeth, recognizing his father's tone as the one he used when he wouldn't accept any further argument on a topic. Jackson would have to save his complaints for later with his mother or he'd risk losing a privilege or actually having his curfew enforced for a few weeks. 

“When is this happening?” Jackson asked, struggling to keep his anger in check so that he could get the information he needed.

“When he's released,” his father repeated before elaborating. “We don't know when that will be yet. Possibly today, but perhaps not until tomorrow or later. We need to see his doctor.”

“ _Why_ is this happening?” Jackson asked, trying to reconcile the incongruity of his father needing to talk to Isaac's doctor about anything. Isaac wasn't anything to Jackson or his family. _Why_ were his parents taking an interest in Isaac's healthcare or living arrangements?

Jackson's father frowned and he gave Jackson a look that clearly said his patience was running thin. “Because it's the right thing to do.”

 _Do you know how many homeless, abused kids there are in the world? Why do we have to disrupt our lives for this one?_ Jackson thought, jaw clenching. He said, “For how long?”

“Indefinitely.”

 _Indefinitely. In-fucking-definitely!_ That sounded a damn lot like his parents were making a long-term decision that affected Jackson without even consulting him. 

“Not okay!” Jackson shouted, slamming his hand against the table. He stood up and glared down at the man. “Are you seriously telling me someone is _moving in_ to my house and I don't get any say in it?”

“That's right,” his father answered, voice calm, _too_ calm. “Now sit down and lower your voice.”

“Fuck you,” Jackson answered. His hands were balled into fists as he turned and stalked out of the room. He didn't stop when his father called after him or when his mother got up and ran after him. He stormed straight to his room and slammed the door in her face.

* * *

Isaac woke up angry that morning in his hospital bed. The night before when his darkest secret had finally come out into the light he had been sad, even frighteningly vulnerable. Today all he felt was pissed off. He didn't want to move in with Jackson Fucking Whittemore. Jackson was an entitled, arrogant, selfish asshole and a bully too. When he wasn't bragging about how much money he had, how talented he was at lacrosse, or how he was so hot he could have anyone he wanted, he was making fun of Isaac or other people at school who weren't as popular or privileged as he was. He would shove Isaac or other guys against lockers, ridicule their clothes, embarrass them in front of girls. Jackson was intolerable enough at school. How was Isaac supposed to _live_ with him?

How was Isaac supposed to live with the Whittemores at all? He couldn’t imagine himself in their world of fancy parties and privilege and it wasn't something he wanted. He was angry that the Whittemores had interfered with his life. He just wanted to get well enough to go back to his house and try not to piss his father off enough to end up back in the hospital. Now that would never happen. Now his father was in jail and Isaac's life was even more fucked than it already had been.

Isaac's thoughts were interrupted as a middle-aged blonde woman in a blue skirt and white blouse walked into his room. She wore black-rimmed glasses and carried an over-sized bag on her shoulder.

“Isaac?” she asked, hesitating in the doorway.

“Yeah,” he said quietly with a nod. 

“I'm Dr. Johnson,” she said, walking fully into the room and extending her hand to Isaac. “Your foster parents sent me.”

Isaac cringed. _Foster parents._ He had _foster parents_ now. Isaac awkwardly took her hand with his left one, the one that wasn't broken, and gave it a quick squeeze. “Are you my new doctor?”

“Well yes,” she answered as she sank into the chair by his bed, “but not for your physical injuries. I'm a psychiatrist.”

Isaac frowned. A psychiatrist? Isaac hadn't even moved in with the Whittemores yet and they already thought he was broken enough to need psychiatric help. 

Dr. Johnson laughed softly as she opened her bag and pulled out a pen and a notebook. “I've seen that look before. Why don't you tell me what you're thinking?”

“Sorry. I just didn't know you were coming.” Isaac forced a neutral look onto his face. He had no way of knowing how much trouble he would be in with the Whittemores if he were rude to this woman. “What do you need to know?”

“Let's start with the basics – your interests and hobbies, stuff like that.”

Isaac's brow furrowed. What was he supposed to say? “Uhm, I'm Isaac. I'm sixteen...I'm a Gemini.”

Dr. Johnson laughed again and smiled at him. “Do you enjoy long walks on the beach and spending time with friends?”

Isaac winced, realizing how stupid he'd sounded. He laughed softly anyway, surprised that she was teasing him, and also slightly amused. He answered truthfully. “I haven't been to the beach in a really long time and...I don't have any friends.”

Dr. Johnson didn't quite frown, but the mirth left her face, and she nodded as she scribbled a note on her pad. “It can be tough making friends when you have a big secret.”

“I guess,” Isaac answered noncommittally. Then to shift the focus he added, “I work as a gravedigger at my dad's cemetery, and winter's my favorite season.”

Dr. Johnson smiled again and made notes, but Isaac didn't think she was actually interested. This seemed to be confirmed as she changed the subject. “How do you feel about moving in with the Whittemores?”

Isaac inwardly cursed. He'd been hoping she wouldn't ask anything along those lines. “Oh I can't wait. It's going to be great. It's so nice of them to do this for me.”

Dr. Johnson gave him a long, appraising look and despite his best efforts not to, he shrank under its weight. “I'm not going to report back to them, Isaac. Anything you tell me is in the strictest confidence. I'm sure you've heard of doctor-patient confidentiality. It's a real thing and something I take very seriously.”

“But aren't they...paying you?”

“It doesn't matter. I'm your doctor.”

It was Isaac's turn to give her an appraising look. She didn't wither under it like he had, and Isaac found himself believing her. He sighed. “Okay fine, I'm angry. I just want to go home and get back to my regular life.”

Dr. Johnson nodded. “I'd be angry too if someone was making me move against my will. It's tough going through a major life change like you are right now. But you may find your new life will ultimately be better.”

“Because they're rich?” Isaac asked, frowning.

“Because they won't hurt you.”

Isaac laughed. “Of course they will.”

Dr. Johnson smirked and shrugged, conceding the point. “You're right. There's always going to be some disagreements and misunderstandings in any significant relationship, some pain. But they won't _abuse_ you or hurt you on purpose.”

Isaac scowled at her. He wasn't sure how therapy was supposed to work, but he didn't think she was supposed to throw his past in his face, especially when he hadn't technically told her anything about it. Wasn't she supposed to pretend she didn't know or something until he brought it up himself?

“Why are they making me talk to you?” Isaac asked, not quite hostile but bordering on it.

“That's something you would need to ask them, but usually when parents or guardians send their children or teenagers to therapy it's because they're concerned about them and want to make sure they get the help they need.”

“They barely know me. Why do they already think I'm messed up?”

“You've been through significant trauma, Isaac. It's normal for anyone in your situation to need someone to talk to about it.”

She was patronizing him now, telling him how he was supposed to feel. “Actually my situation was normal for me. I was used to it. It's all this” –Isaac waved his cast-encased arm through the air, indicating the hospital room and pointedly lingering on Dr. Johnson– “that I don't know how to react to.”

“Give it time,” she answered. 

The conversation then shifted back to less fraught subjects. She asked Isaac additional basic questions about his life and daily routine and also told him more about herself and how she had come to be sitting with him. Isaac had assumed Mrs. Whittemore was the driving force in getting her here, but evidently it had been Mr. Whittemore who'd made the call. They had known each other professionally from a case Dr. Johnson testified in the previous summer. Her specialty was adolescent and family therapy. Isaac decided he liked her well enough as a person, but he resented her presence and quit trying to hide it as the session continued. 

Almost as soon as she left, the Whittemores entered his room, and Isaac suspected they had been waiting outside for her to finish. He didn't like it. Despite what she'd said about keeping his secrets, despite mostly believing her, it seemed too convenient and plausible that she would fill them in on what she and Isaac had just discussed.

“Good morning, sweetie!” Mrs. Whittemore said as she entered the room in what could only be described as a flourish, hands clasped in front of her in the air and long coat billowing out dramatically behind her. She flounced to Isaac's bedside, laid a hand on each of his shoulders, and kissed his cheek. She perched daintily on the edge of the bed as she studied him. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep okay? You're not still a four are you?”

Isaac recoiled but tried to keep a pleasant expression on his face. He wasn't used to such an effusive greeting and he didn't like being touched or kissed, especially by someone he didn't know very well. Nevertheless, she was being nice and the Whittemores were going out of their way for him – even if he didn't particularly want them to or understand why – so he gave her a small smile and answered. “Morning. I slept fine. Uh, a four?”

“Your pain level, sweetie. Last night you were a four.” She patted his arm, her meticulously shaped eyebrows knitting together in worry.

“Oh. I'm better. Just sore.”

Her brow smoothed and she squeezed his arm. “What a relief!”

Mr. Whittemore sank into the chair and gave Isaac a scrutinizing look, his face neutral. Isaac looked away and fussed with his blanket. Whatever, Mr. Whittemore was thinking about, it couldn't be good. Isaac knew he didn't measure up to Mr. Whittemore's standards.

“What do you need?” Mr. Whittemore asked eventually, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.

Isaac flinched. Mr. Whittemore's tone wasn't harsh exactly, but it was commanding and conveyed a sense of urgency. Mr. Whittemore didn't want Isaac wasting his time with hemming and hawing. The trouble was, Isaac had no idea how to answer or even in what context Mr. Whittemore meant the question.

“I don't need anything,” Isaac said, eyes in his lap.

“I'm going to have the authorities open your home so we can retrieve your things. I'll have everything moved from your room. But do you need anything from any other rooms? And what do you need that you don't already have?”

“I don't...uh, just the stuff in my room will be good. Thanks.” Isaac hated the idea of someone going through his things, but it didn't seem to be up for discussion. 

“Did you like Dr. Johnson or do we need to look for another therapist?” Mr. Whittemore asked.

Isaac frowned and dropped his head further. Were those the only two options? “I like Dr. Johnson.”

“Good.” Mr. Whittemore stood and stepped to Isaac's bedside. “I'm going to work. Lana, see that the boy has my office number. Isaac, call and tell my assistant if you think of anything else you need. Her name's Mary.”

Mr. Whittemore dropped a heavy hand on Isaac's shoulder and squeezed. Upon reflection, Isaac realized it had been meant as a nice gesture, but it was just shy of terrifying and Isaac barely managed to keep from crying out in alarm.

“We spoke with your attending physician, Isaac,” Mrs. Whittemore said a little while after her husband had left.

Isaac wasn't sure if she was about to tell him something important and wanted to make sure she had his full attention or if she was just making idle conversation. He looked up and gave her a quick smile, hoping it would work as a suitable response for either scenario. 

“He says you can come home today!” She was beaming at him now, apparently delighted by the prospect of having Isaac in her home. 

“I- uh, are you sure you want me?” Isaac asked. He could never live up to that kind of enthusiasm. She'd find out what Isaac was really like and send him away within a week.

Mrs. Whittemore's smile faltered for a few seconds before it reformed on her face, tight this time. “Of course I want you, Isaac. I've always wanted-” She stopped and raised manicured fingers to her mouth. “Of course we want you to live with us, sweetie.”

Isaac looked at her curiously but didn't respond. It wasn't necessary anyway. She began rambling about picking out paint colors for his new room and taking him shopping for new clothes and bedroom furniture. Then somehow the topic changed to Christmas and their holiday party, and wouldn't it be lovely sending out holiday cards with Isaac in the family picture? 

Isaac tried to hide his anxiety and discomfort as she kept talking. _Family picture?_ Wasn't she getting way ahead of herself? Maybe Isaac's dad wouldn't be convicted and Isaac could go back to his old life. Maybe they'd be sick of him by then and he'd be in that group home Ms. Newcastle had mentioned. Either way, it was only October. Why was she planning so far in advance?

When she mentioned how happy Jackson would be with Isaac living with them, Isaac couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped his throat at that ludicrous suggestion. _Right,_ Jackson Whittemore was going to be over-fucking-joyed to have Isaac in his home. They'd probably end up wearing matching Christmas sweaters in that 'family picture' they'd be taking.

* * *

Jackson lowered his shoulder, squared his feet, and bent his knees, coiling power in his legs as Theo Raeken caught the lacrosse ball in his stick a few yards in front of Jackson. Jackson was so fucking happy Theo was the one who had the ball. As soon as Theo turned to run down the field, Jackson leapt forward and slammed into Theo's unguarded chest as hard as he could. The ball tumbled out of the net on Theo's stick and onto the field as Theo landed on his ass. 

Jackson snatched up the ball and sprinted toward his goal. Aiden ran toward him but Jackson feinted left then pivoted right, clotheslining him with the back end of his stick and barely slowing down. A few seconds later Jackson took the shot, whizzing it past Danny's shoulder and into the net.

As practice continued, Jackson laid out Theo three more times and took down Liam twice. Aiden got revenge on him, however, as he herded Jackson toward the edge of the field where Ethan was waiting and they body checked him at the same time from opposite sides, leaving him in a throbbing heap on the field as Ethan snatched up the ball and ran down field with it. 

Jackson grudgingly admitted the twins played well together as he watched his teammates circle Ethan to stop him, only to have him suddenly pass Aiden the ball at the last second without even looking, somehow sensing where his brother was. Aiden caught it easily and immediately took the shot, scoring on Jackson's goalie. Jackson was pissed. His teammates were idiots. How did they not see that play coming?

Near the end of practice, Theo tried to exact his own revenge on Jackson, slashing him with his stick across the back as Jackson ran past him. _Fucking asshole!_ Jackson turned, ready to lay into him when Coach Finstock blew his whistle and called a foul on Theo. Jackson forced himself to calm down and use the foul to his advantage, clinching the scrimmage for his team. 

Once practice was over and they were in the locker room changing, Jackson went up behind Theo and slammed him against his open locker. “You fuckin' bitch! Gotta cheat because you can't handle me fair and square.”

“Dickhead!” Theo snarled, whirling around and lunging for Jackson. He never made contact as Danny was suddenly between them, a hand on each of their chests. Theo shouted past him at Jackson. “What the hell's your problem?! You wanna cripple half the team during a fucking practice?”

“Guys cool it.” Danny’s tone was level. The sinewy muscles in his arms bulged as he held Jackson and Theo apart. “It's just a game. You're friends. Calm down.”

Jackson grunted and went slack against Danny's hand, signaling he wasn't going to try anything else. Danny was technically correct. Jackson and Theo were friends. Theo was his best friend after Danny. That didn't mean Jackson didn't legitimately hate that smug asshole. They were only friends because they were both popular and ran in the same cliques. Being 'friends' was mutually advantageous; whereas, being open rivals would have risked one or both of them taking a social hit.

“Psycho jerk,” Theo muttered under his breath as he turned back to his locker to finish undressing. 

Fifteen minutes later after showering and dressing, Jackson left the locker room accompanied by Danny and the twins.

“Dick,” Aiden remarked with a smirk as he bumped shoulders with Jackson. His fingers hooked in the front of his v-neck, pulling it lower. “My chest is already bruising.”

“Aww, you gonna cry about it, Aiden?” Jackson asked with mock sympathy as he glanced at the discolored marks on Aiden's chest and rolled his eyes.

Aiden laughed, let go of his shirt, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Jackson actually kind of liked Aiden. He was an aggressive, skilled player and he didn't take shit personally and get all butthurt like Theo always did. Plus, Jackson and Aiden had competed for Lydia Martin's attention over the summer and Jackson had won. Now that she was his girlfriend, he _loved_ lording it over Aiden. 

“Me and Lydia are going bowling Friday. If you can find someone dumb enough to go out with you, you should come.”

“I already have plans,” Aiden answered, grinning as he showed Jackson a text.

Malia: _Sex and deer hunting this weekend?_

“That girl is such a freak,” Jackson remarked. Hunting weirded him out in general, and what kind of girl suggested it as an activity that paired well with sex?

Aiden narrowed his eyes in a glare before his face was once again lit with humor. “She's a freak in the bed too.” He winked.

Jackson took a few moments to imagine just what that meant as the twins stopped alongside their motorcycles in the school parking lot.

“You coming, babe?” Ethan asked Danny, holding out his spare helmet in offering.

Danny shook his head. “Nah, Jackson's giving me a ride home.”

This was news to Jackson but he didn't say anything as the couple exchanged a kiss and made plans to talk that night. A few moments later the twins started their bikes and drove away, leaving Jackson and Danny alone as they walked to Jackson's Porsche. 

“So,” Danny said, hand coming to rest on Jackson's shoulder, “why _were_ you trying to cripple half the team at practice?”

Jackson frowned, angry that Danny was ambushing him. “I wasn't. Theo's just a little bitch.”

“Jackson, quit bullshitting. I know when something's bothering you,” Danny said as he went around to the passenger side of Jackson's car and waited to be let in.

After a moment's hesitation, Jackson clicked the button on his key fob and unlocked both car doors. It was tempting to only unlock his own side and drive off, but it might damage his friendship with Danny if he did that, and Danny's friendship actually sort of mattered to him. Theo, Aiden, Liam, or one of the other guys would have already been eating his dust.

“Isaac Lahey,” Jackson said with a grumble as they got in and closed the doors.

“What about him?” Danny asked, hand landing on Jackson's arm and keeping him from starting the car.

Jackson pulled away from the touch but turned in his seat to face Danny. His teeth were clenched as he said, “He's moving into my house.”

Danny's eyebrows shot up. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah exactly.”

“No really...why?”

Jackson sighed, wondering how much of this he wanted to get into. “His dad got arrested.”

Another burst of surprise flitted across Danny's face. “For what?”

“I don't know. What do I look like a police ledger?” Jackson answered, deciding to draw the line there. Danny might be pissed at him if he found out Jackson had known about Isaac's abuse but hadn't done anything.

“So why's he moving into your house?”

“Fuck if I know. Ask my dumbass adoptive parents.”

Danny frowned and tilted his head. “Adoptive parents?”

Jackson huffed and started the car, ignoring Danny's attempts to stop him. He just wanted to take him home and be done with this conversation.

“ _Adoptive_ parents?” Danny repeated.

“Yes, what the fuck? You know I'm adopted.”

“But you always just call them your parents.”

“But they're not really my parents,” Jackson answered, glaring angrily at a cheap domestic car that was crawling toward them, preventing Jackson from pulling out of the parking lot.

“Oh come on,” Danny snapped, swatting Jackson's arm as they finally pulled onto the street. “They've raised you since you were a baby. Of course they're your parents.”

“Well I guess I'm not really their son,” Jackson barked, ignoring the sick, tense feeling in his stomach and chest. _Fucking Danny, making me talk about this shit._

“Whoa, Jackson! Your parents fuckin' adore you. What are you even talking about?” 

“Apparently I'm not-” Jackson slammed on the brakes and took a sharp left as he noticed his turn a few seconds before it was too late.

“You're not what?” Danny prompted, untroubled by Jackson's erratic driving.

“I'm not _enough_ okay?!” Jackson shouted, struggling to keep an unexpected sob from slipping out. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and slid into the next turn intentionally hard, getting even with Danny by jostling him around in the car's cabin.

“Stop the fucking car,” Danny shouted, clinging to the shoulder harness of his seatbelt.

“We're almost there,” Jackson answered, speeding up. He needed to get Danny out of his car before he lost his composure and embarrassed himself.

“I said FUCKING STOP! NOW!”

Jackson growled and slammed on the brakes as he pulled over on the side of the road.

“WHAT?!” He yelled at Danny, turning in his seat to face him and crossing his arms.

Danny glared at Jackson as he unhooked his seatbelt. Then he sighed and the hostility left his face. A moment later he startled Jackson by grabbing his shoulders and pulling him across the seat until he was pressed against Danny's chest.

“You're a moron,” Danny said, wrapping his arms around Jackson's back and refusing to let go as Jackson tried to pull away.

Eventually Jackson gave in and reluctantly hugged Danny back. He was almost pissed when some of the snarl of emotions strangling his chest and stomach abated. _Fuck Danny for knowing how to make me feel better._

“You're enough,” Danny whispered, almost too low for Jackson to hear it. 

“Are we done yet?” Jackson whined, lifting his hands away from Danny's body but not trying to get loose.

“We're done, asshole,” Danny answered, squeezing Jackson one more time then letting go.

“Thanks.” Jackson tried to make it sound sarcastic, but he knew by the smile on Danny's face that he saw through him.

* * *

Isaac felt a wave of discomfort as the Whittemores' maid, Vicky, brought him another glass of soda, fluffed the pillows behind his back and under his foot, then left with his empty food tray. Isaac was setup for now in the Whittemores' parlor – they had a frickin _parlor_ – on the bottom floor of the house, since his new room was still being prepared and since his broken leg made it difficult to navigate the stairs, at least according to Mrs. Whittemore. Isaac didn't think it would actually be that tough going up the stairs on his crutches but she had insisted, and Isaac _did not_ want to piss her off now that an unasked question had been answered.

The night before in the hospital, Isaac had noticed her slightly clumsy movements and the unslurred yet also unusual cadence of her voice and suspected that she had been a little bit tipsy. After all, thanks to his father, Isaac had gotten quite good at noticing the signs of someone who had been drinking too much. However, he hadn't been sure, and there wasn't anything he could have or would have said regardless. Tonight though he was sure, especially considering that she had been sipping cocktails since they had gotten home from the hospital...at 12:45pm. 

As Mrs. Whittemore stumbled into the parlor a few minutes after Vicky left, Isaac braced for a tirade. He hadn't been on the receiving end of one yet, but it was only a matter of time. He just hoped she would only be verbally abusive and not also hit him or throw things like his father. He was still sore and too incapacitated to defend himself. 

“Are you okay, sweetie? Do you need anything?” She asked, leaning against the back of the oversized leather couch Isaac was stretched out on.

Isaac studied her for a few seconds before looking away. Her eyes were as kind as they had been all day, if a little less focused; her tone was somewhat different now, but not sharp or hostile. He just wished he knew what would set her off so that he could avoid doing it.

“I'm fine, thanks,” he answered, smiling sweetly. 

“Jackson should be home soon.” She said it like it was good news.

“Oh. Cool.” Isaac hoped her inebriation would hide his lack of enthusiasm...well downright dread. _This_ would probably be what set her off because there was no way in hell Jackson wasn't going to be seething with anger when he saw Isaac, and of course his mother would side with him. Isaac wondered if they'd let him call Ms. Newcastle before throwing him out. He had her business card with his clothes from the hospital somewhere. 

As if on cue, Isaac heard the sound of someone walking through the hallway toward them. 

Isaac sighed in relief as Mr. Whittemore stepped through the doorway a few seconds later.

“Oh darling, you're home early!” Mrs. Whittemore crossed the room, threw her arms dramatically around her husband's neck, and kissed him. 

Isaac glanced at his phone. It was almost 7pm. If that was early, he wondered how late Mr. Whittemore usually worked.

The man grumbled and stepped back, keeping his wife at arm's length. “I wanted to be here when Jackson got home.”

“How sweet!” she declared, kissing him again.

“Not really. I just don't want him picking a fight with Isaac.”

Isaac's mouth opened in surprise before the corners pulled up into a smile. He had never liked the man more than he did in that moment.

They settled in and waited after that. Isaac stared at the giant flat screen television without comprehending what he was watching. All he could think about was how Jackson was going to react to _finding_ him watching television in his house.

Mrs. Whittemore called for Vicky and requested another cocktail as she sat at the end of the couch with Isaac. Mr. Whittemore sat in a wing-back chair nearby, answering emails on his phone and complaining about work.

Eventually Isaac heard another set of footsteps approaching and this time it was Jackson who stepped through the door. His eyes immediately landed on Isaac, and he gave him a look hateful enough to rival any from Isaac's father.

“Vicky said you wanted to see me,” Jackson said stiffly, looking away from Isaac and training his eyes on his father. 

“Oh honey! There you are!” Mrs. Whittemore handed Isaac her drink and got up. She stumbled across the room and wrapped her arms around Jackson's neck in a greeting similar to the one she'd given her husband, except she kissed Jackson's cheek and didn't press her body quite as close.

Isaac grimaced as some of the orange liquid – a Sidecar if he remembered correctly – sloshed out of her martini glass and onto the blanket he had draped over him. He leaned forward and carefully set the glass on a nearby table.

“Look, Isaac's here!” she said cheerfully, wrapping one arm around Jackson and pointing at Isaac with the other.

Jackson shot Isaac another hostile scowl then asked, “When's he leaving?”

“Jackson, tell Isaac hello,” Mr. Whittemore said, sounding more patient than Isaac had expected, much like a parent prompting a small child to greet a distant relative he didn't know very well.

“Hello,” said Jackson sarcastically with clenched jaw.

“Hey,” Isaac answered softly with a nod. He immediately felt stupid for doing it.

“When is he leaving?” he asked again, directing the question to his father.

“He isn't. Get used to it,” Mr. Whittemore responded, most of the patience leaving his voice.

“I'm going to my room,” Jackson announced, pulling away from his mother and turning to leave.

“And you're staying there all weekend,” Mr. Whittemore said.

“What?!” Jackson spun around and glared at the man.

“You're grounded for your little outburst this morning.”

“But I have a date with Lydia,” Jackson protested, and Isaac found his whining complaint oddly humanizing.

“Better cancel it. Or stand her up – that's your business. But you're not going.”

Jackson's head snapped back to Isaac. “I hate you,” he muttered under his breath before storming out of the room.

“Honey, have you eaten?” Mrs. Whittemore called after him. 

Isaac laughed, quickly hiding it with a series of coughs. He knew without a doubt that Jackson would make his life miserable and eventually figure out a way to get Isaac out of his house – which was fine with Isaac – but at least he had survived his first day in the Whittemore home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always greatly appreciated!


	3. The First Days

Since he was grounded, Jackson spent the weekend in his room studying and brooding, actively avoiding his parents' attempts to get him to interact with Isaac. Just because he was stuck at home didn't mean he had to acknowledge the loser who was ruining his life.

The studying was mostly unnecessary. Jackson was a straight-A student who was diligent about staying on top of his assignments. He spent Friday preparing for all the tests he had the next week and Saturday completing all the class projects that had already been assigned. Sunday as he was irritably flipping through his course syllabi trying to get an early jump on upcoming material, he wondered for the hundredth time that weekend why he wasn’t enough for his parents, why they felt the need to bring Isaac Pathetic-Loser Lahey into their household.

Jackson was better than Isaac in every way. Jackson was the captain of the lacrosse team; he was stronger, faster, and more coordinated than Isaac. With the exception of his girlfriend, Lydia Martin, and a couple of nerds with no lives, Jackson was also the best student in their grade; he was much smarter than Isaac, who barely scrapped by in most of the classes they shared. Jackson was also popular and good-looking; Isaac had no friends and dressed like a homeless person. What in hell could Isaac possibly offer that Jackson couldn’t? It couldn’t even be personality. Jackson actually had one, whereas Isaac pretty much refused to speak to anyone unless he had no choice.

There was really only one thing it could be: Jackson wasn’t actually his parents’ son and never could be. Isaac wasn’t either, but maybe they hoped to fill the void of an actual son with two partial sons. Jackson wished someone had told him ahead of time. He had spent his whole life trying to measure up to invisible standards he could never meet; he was _still_ trying to accomplish something that would create that missing connection that could only be formed with real family. 

It was an emptiness Jackson had always felt. When he was a kid he didn’t have the words for it, just a nagging sense that he felt incomplete. Once his parents told him he was adopted it suddenly made sense. Jackson was incomplete because he was missing family, true family. He knew his parents loved him – he loved them too if he were honest – but they would never be enough for each other. 

Isaac Lahey damn well wasn’t going to fix that.

* * *

Thursday night when Isaac had been in the hospital, he’d been so heavily medicated and exhausted from his secret coming out that he’d had a deep, mostly dreamless night’s sleep. Friday night was a different story.

Friday night, Isaac slept on the couch in the Whittemores’ parlor, and it was by far the most pleasant couch he had ever tried to sleep on. It was soft but offered good support, and it was _huge,_ easily accommodating his long frame and wide shoulders with room to spare. Nevertheless, Isaac barely managed a combined hour and a half of fitful sleep for the whole night. Physically he couldn’t get comfortable because his ribs, chest, and back were sore and bruised; no matter which way he turned or stretched, he was always straining something. The casts on his arm and leg and the splint on his hand were also heavy, restrictive, and all around difficult to get used to. 

However, it was Isaac’s emotional discomfort that truly kept him from getting any rest. Nothing in his life was right; he had lost everything. He was basically homeless despite the grand mansion he found himself lying in. He wasn’t sure he would ever see his dad again, and maybe it was messed up considering the way the man had treated Isaac, but that really _bothered_ him. Isaac’s dad was the only family he had left and no amount of abuse or neglect would ever make Isaac stop loving him. Isaac also hated that his brother's room wasn’t still across the hall. Camden’s room was all Isaac had of him, but now it was gone; Isaac's whole life was gone, including the physical reminders of every _happy_ memory he had ever had.

On Saturday morning the Whittemores ‘woke him up’ – he pretended to be asleep so they wouldn’t think he was ungrateful for the couch – and took him upstairs to see his new room. It was a surreal experience ascending the opulent marble staircase that led from the ground floor up to the second level of the home. The staircase was broad enough for the Whittemores to walk astride him on either side, with their manservent, Grant, hovering behind Isaac in case he slipped on his crutches. Near the top, the staircase opened onto an expansive landing with two smaller staircases branching off on each side. The group took the left branch and entered a long hallway paved in a plush, pristine light blue carpet. Even in his house slippers, Isaac was terrified of staining it; he couldn’t imagine traversing it in regular shoes. Along the way Mrs. Whittemore gestured at the various rooms they passed, explaining their purposes and promising Isaac a more complete tour once he was better. Isaac cringed as she pointed out Jackson’s room. then steered him directly across the hall to what would be his new room. _Great,_ Jackson was still his neighbor but now instead of a street separating them it was only a hallway.

Isaac was at a loss for words as he entered the bedroom he would be using. It was already filled with most of his things from his real room at home, and it was setup in more or less the same configuration it had been, but it was...wrong. Everything looked off in this new, much larger room, like his things themselves were too small. There were new additions too. A giant flatscreen TV was mounted to the wall across from Isaac’s bed and an entertainment center below it was stocked with the newest X-Box and several popular game titles. 

Did the Whittemores always keep a guest room stocked with the latest gaming equipment or had they gone out – or more likely sent Grant or Vicky out – specifically to get it for him? 

Next to the larger unit was Isaac’s old entertainment center, turned sideways and holding his TV and older console and games. Had bringing them over been a formality? Was Isaac expected to get rid of them? 

His old desk hadn’t made the trip at all. In the corner it should have occupied sat a larger, fancier desk in a L-configuration. On one side he spied his familiar laptop, but a new iPad lay next to it, and in the center of the desk a monitor and speaker system had been setup, presumably linking to the desktop unit Isaac saw on the floor beside his desk chair. 

An open doorway revealed that Isaac had his own en-suite bathroom, and a second door opened into a walk-in closet containing all his clothes and the other items he’d kept in his closet at home. It was barely a quarter filled, whereas his smaller closet at home had been brimming full. The empty space made Isaac feel inadequate somehow.

At least his bed was right. The comforter and bedding were his own, the frame was his, and when he sat on the edge he recognized the familiar sink and strain in the springs as belonging to his real mattress. Maybe tonight if he closed his eyes he could pretend he was at home. 

“Of course we’ll change the carpeting and repaint the walls once you choose what you want,” Mrs. Whittemore said, frowning at the beige walls and the same light blue carpeting that lined the hallway outside, “but do you like your new room, sweetie?”

“It’s great.” Isaac flashed her his best smile then turned and directed it at Mr. Whittemore for a moment. “I love it.” 

He hated it.

Mr. Whittemore clapped a hand on Isaac’s shoulder and this time Isaac managed not to flinch. Mr. Whittemore probably wasn’t going to squeeze it painfully and shove Isaac against a wall the way his dad used to do. Isaac supposed that was one change he could get behind.

“Once you’ve settled in, come and meet me in my study,” the man said.

“I-I don’t know where that is?” Isaac answered, fussing with the splint on his hand as an excuse not to make eye contact.

“Grant will show you. He’ll be waiting at the top of the stairs to help take you down,” Mr. Whittemore answered.

_You mean like an elderly woman?_

“Okay,” Isaac said softly.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Mrs. Whittemore said sweetly, hugging him and kissing his cheek.

_Why?_

“Thanks,” Isaac answered.

Once he was alone, Isaac opened all his drawers, gave his closet a cursory examination, and visited his new bathroom facilities. Everything was more or less where it should have been, and he couldn’t find anything outright missing except the skeleton of his old desk itself, but he was still weirded out knowing that someone had gone through all his things and relocated them without him. 

He wanted a shower but he didn’t think he should keep Mr. Whittemore waiting, so after changing out of pajamas and into regular clothes, he re-opened his door and stepped out into the hallway. A moment later Jackson’s door also opened and he shoved his way into the hallway too, crowding Isaac.

“Hey,” Isaac mumbled, just because it would have felt rude not to acknowledge him at all.

Jackson glared at him and all but growled as he kicked one of Isaac’s crutches out from under him, then stormed down the hallway toward the stairs.

Isaac cursed under his breath and fumbled to retrieve the crutch without losing his balance. He ultimately failed and wound up sprawled sideways on the ground. He hadn’t quite fallen or even hurt himself, just been forced to take a knee and let gravity run its course.

Eventually, he managed to climb back to his feet and make his way to the stairs where he found Grant patiently waiting. He was relieved that apparently the young man hadn’t heard him fall.

A little while later, Isaac was knocking hesitantly on Mr. Whittemore’s study door. He entered the room after the man called for him to come in.

“You wanted to see me?” Isaac asked.

“Yes.” The man sat back in his chair and motioned for Isaac to take a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of his desk. Once Isaac was situated he continued. “I know this is a significant adjustment for you, Isaac, but I want you to feel like part of the family.”

Isaac smiled faintly. Mr. and Mrs. Whittemore really were being exceptionally welcoming.

“I want us to get to know each other better.”

Isaac nodded. He was uncomfortable, but he wanted that too.

“That’s why I had my assistant prepare these dossiers for you.”

_Wait what?!_

Isaac watched in confusion as Mr. Whittemore opened the top drawer of his desk and handed Isaac a binder. Inside were three different folders containing biographies, pictures, and other documents about each of the Whittemores. Isaac thumbed through them. Apparently Jackson’s favorite dish was Chicken Parmesan, Mrs. Whittemore’s middle name was Olivia, and Mr. Whittemore was a fan of the Rolling Stones the group but not the magazine.

“Please memorize those at your leisure.”

Isaac blinked at him open mouthed, too incredulous to worry about being rude.

“And if you’ll flip to the back of the binder,” Mr. Whittemore requested.

Isaac did as he was told and found a multi-page questionnaire.

“Please fill that out and return it to me by the end of the week so we can get to know you too.”

 _Homework?_ Mr. Whittemore wanted him to write about his childhood pets instead of just asking him about them?

“I know this is unorthodox, but it’s much more efficient and I’m a very busy man,” Mr. Whittemore said.

“Sorry to bother you,” Isaac answered with a hint of sarcasm before he thought better of it.

Mr. Whittemore frowned. “I really do want you to be happy here, Isaac. Let’s schedule a lunch and have a nice long chat, just the two of us.”

 _Or, you know,_ now _would have been an option too._

“Do you want me to call your assistant to set something up?” Isaac asked, mindful of his tone but otherwise letting his sarcasm run free.

“Yes, that would be perfect.”

Isaac gaped at him.

Mr. Whittemore chuckled. “I’m _kidding._ Tomorrow at noon. We’ll go out. You pick the place.”

Isaac nodded and grabbed his crutches to stand.

“One more thing.”

Isaac paused and returned his attention to Mr. Whittemore who opened a different drawer and pulled out a credit card.

“This is for you. I added you as an authorized user and have one coming with your name on it, but you can use this for online purchases in the meantime.”

Isaac backed up in his chair. He did not want to spend their money.

“Go on, it’s fine.”

“I-I don’t need a credit card.”

“It’s safer than carrying cash, and we’ll earn rewards on every purchase.”

Isaac inwardly laughed. All Mr. Whittemore had to do now was mention the number of merchants nationwide that accepted the card and then remark on how convenient its online account management was and they could shoot a commercial.

Isaac reluctantly took the card just to avoid potentially starting an argument or offending the man.

“Don’t go crazy but feel free to buy anything under a hundred dollars. Talk to me first if it’s more than that.”

_Crazy, right – like giving a random teenager you barely know your credit card? Got it._

As Isaac was walking out of the room, Mr. Whittemore stopped him one final time.

“Isaac.”

Isaac turned and looked back.

“You are safe here,” Mr. Whittemore said, tone serious as he held eye contact with Isaac. “Please tell me if you have any problems or feel like you aren’t.”

Isaac nodded and walked out of the room, unsure how to make sense of the conflicting emotions knotting his stomach.

* * *

“I’m not doing that.” Jackson glared at his mother, refusing to spare a glance at Isaac, who was cowering in the corner of the room by the door like the anti-social loser he was.

“But, honey, Isaac has to get to school somehow,” his mother answered, her voice gravelly and smile lacking its usual attempt at sincerity. She was hung over bad this morning.

“Take him yourself,” Jackson said, voice louder than necessary. He smirked when she flinched.

“Don’t be silly,” she answered, fingers daintily steepling against her forehead, “I haven’t put on my makeup yet.”

“Then Grant can drive him, or he can stay home” – Jackson grimaced. He had implied this was Isaac’s home. It was _not_ – “But I’m not doing it.”

She frowned and the pretense of a pleasant mood vanished from her face. “Take Isaac to school – and bring him _back_ at the end of the day – or you’re grounded again next weekend.”

Jackson folded his arms and dug his fingers against his sides. Isaac was going to pay for this. “Go to my car, Lahey, and don’t touch it till I get there.”

Jackson turned to go back upstairs and get his things, but his mother stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, honey. I knew I could count on you,” she said sweetly.

“Don’t touch me,” Jackson snarled, shaking out of her grasp.

“It’s okay, sweetie, Jackson’s always a little grumpy in the morning,” she said to Isaac as Jackson thundered up the stairs.

* * *

Isaac swallowed back a groan as Jackson took a sharp turn and his injured arm was slammed against the passenger side door and compressed between it and his body. 

They didn’t say a word to each other on the trip to school. Jackson didn’t acknowledge Isaac at all unless a clenched jaw and erratic driving counted as acknowledgment. 

Isaac was relieved when they pulled into the school parking lot. He couldn’t get out of Jackson’s car fast enough. Unfortunately, he _literally_ couldn’t get out of Jackson’s car fast enough. Thanks to his reduced mobility, it took him too long to climb out of the car and Jackson became impatient.

“Get out!” Jackson shouted. He snatched up the crutch still leaning between their seats and hurled it over the car, past Isaac and onto the ground in the neighboring empty space.

As Isaac leaned down to pick it up, a horn blared, startling him and causing him to lose his precarious balance. He scrapped his good arm against the concrete as he crashed to the ground but managed to keep from exacerbating the injuries to his broken arm and leg. When he looked up a car’s front bumper was slowly creeping toward him, horn still blaring. He grabbed his crutch and crawled out of the spot as a chorus of laughs erupted in the parking lot. Theo Raeken emerged from the car a few moments later, grinning and all but bowing to his audience.

“You’re such a d-bag, Theo,” one of the twins, Isaac couldn’t tell which, remarked as he stepped past Isaac and greeted his friend with a light thump on the shoulder.

A moment later a pair of hands was under Isaac’s unbroken arm and another pair was gripping his sides. Isaac started to panic but calmed down slightly when he realized who the hands belonged to.

“Are you okay?” Danny asked, tugging Isaac back to his feet by the arm.

Isaac glanced over his other shoulder to identify Danny’s companion, who was helping support Isaac’s weight. It was the other twin, presumably Ethan, Danny’s boyfriend, based on context. 

“Fine,” Isaac said shortly, fussing with his crutches to avoid making eye contact and hating the blush that burned his cheeks. Danny and Ethan were two of the slightly less awful popular kids, but Isaac still didn’t want to have anything to do with them, and he wasn’t sure he even appreciated their help if their scrutiny was the price he had to pay for it.

“What the fuck was that loser doing getting out of your car, Jackson?” Theo asked, voice raised so that Isaac would be sure to hear it. Isaac hated Theo. Theo was even worse than Jackson, and that was really saying something.

“Shut up, Raeken,” Jackson snarled, rounding the back bumper of his car and shoving past his lacrosse buddies as he strode toward the school entrance. Theo and Aiden trailed after Jackson, Theo peppering him with more questions and Aiden laughing obnoxiously.

“Take it easy, Isaac,” Danny said as he patted Isaac’s back and stepped around him. Ethan tapped Isaac’s shoulder a couple times, then wrapped his arm around Danny’s waist as they left to catch up with the others.

 _Fucking assholes! If you were_ actually _nice guys you’d call your friends out on their bullshit behavior. But sure, you just go right on ahead and feel like you did your fucking good deed for the day by helping the crippled loser get back up._

Isaac’s day didn’t get any better from there. He sat alone at lunch, like he always did, only this time everyone seemed to be watching him and whispering or laughing. Did they know about his abuse? Did they know Isaac’s father had been arrested? Had Jackson told them? 

Isaac felt too self conscious to sit through a whole lunch, so he only ate about half his food then got up to leave. He wasn’t that hungry anyway thanks to having actual meals at the Whittemores’ all weekend and that morning Ordinarily he’d have to scrounge whatever he could from the sparse groceries and takeout dinners his father kept in the house. 

Unfortunately, as Isaac was leaving the cafeteria, another one of the lacrosse bullies, Liam Dunbar, was coming in. Liam wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing and before Isaac could pull his crutch out of the way, Liam’s foot got tangled up in it and he tripped, face-planting in the entryway of the cafeteria. Isaac cringed and braced himself. Liam’s temper was legendary.

Sure enough the athlete sprang back to his feet, and before Isaac could offer an apology, Liam slammed him against the wall.

“You fucking loser shitbag!” Liam shouted, face lit with fury as his forearm dug into Isaac’s throat. 

Isaac hated how much shorter and smaller Liam was than him. He was also a grade behind Isaac in school. It made Isaac feel even more pathetic for not being able to defend himself. 

“What the fuck do you think you were doing tripping me?!” Liam demanded. He didn’t give Isaac a chance to answer before he punched him in the stomach with his free hand.

Isaac coughed and crumpled against the wall. Liam didn’t hit as hard as Isaac’s father, but the added embarrassment of having this assault witnessed by everyone in the cafeteria more than made up for it, especially since Isaac’s torso was still sore from his last round of abuse.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac ground out between attempts to catch his breath. This situation was painfully familiar even if the perpetrator was different, and Isaac knew not saying anything could make it worse. “It was an accident.”

“Dude, I think it really was an accident. Lay off,” Mason Hewitt said, appearing behind Liam and trying to pull him away. Isaac had been vaguely aware of his presence but had been wholly focused on the threat Liam posed.

“Go away, Mace,” Liam barked, arm digging in harder against Isaac’s throat.

“Seriously, Liam, you’re being a dick. Stop.” Mason pulled Liam back far enough to relieve the pressure on Isaac’s windpipe.

Liam wheeled around to face Mason, and Isaac half-expected Liam to hit him. Instead he took deep breaths, his hands balled into fists by his sides. After a few seconds Mason edged around Liam, placing himself between Liam and Isaac. 

“Come on. Let’s eat,” Mason said, voice obviously modulated to be soothing as he placed a hand on Liam’s back.

“If you fucking do that again, Lahey, I’ll break your other leg,” Liam shouted as he cast Isaac one more fiery glare before allowing Mason to usher him away.

Isaac hobbled from the cafeteria as quickly as he could, aware that everyone was once again laughing and talking about him.

* * *

Jackson was _pissed._ Isaac had done nothing but embarrass him all day and now everyone had found out Isaac was living with him. Worse, if Jackson wanted to get his freedom back next weekend, he was going to have to let Isaac ride home with him.

That’s why Jackson’s anger only deepened when he couldn’t find Isaac after school. He wasn’t among the crowd of students at their lockers in the hallway and he wasn’t waiting for Jackson out front or in the parking lot.

Jackson didn’t have Isaac’s phone number. What was he supposed to do, fucking walk around the school yelling for him? There was no way in hell that was going to happen. He’d rather stay grounded.

Jackson waited around for a few more minutes, covertly looking for the loser, but eventually he gave up and left. This wasn’t his fault. He had been _willing_ to give Isaac a ride. He couldn’t control whether or not the moron actually showed up to get in his car. His parents would just have to understand that.

Jackson laughed out loud as he pulled onto the road and within two blocks spotted Isaac hobbling down the street. Was he planning to try to walk back? He really was a moron. Jackson didn’t care though. At least fewer people would see the dipshit getting into his car here on the side of the road than in the school parking lot.

Jackson pulled up next to him and rolled down the window. “Get in the fucking car, Lahey!”

Isaac looked reluctant, but after a few seconds did as he was told. Jackson took off again as soon as he was sure the oaf was in far enough that he wouldn’t fall back out – Jackson’s parents would have killed him if Isaac broke something else – but before he had a chance to get settled or even close his door. Jackson laughed as Isaac gasped and slammed it shut.

“Can’t you follow simple instructions?” Jackson asked, taking a corner a little too fast and chuckling again as one of Isaac’s crutches fell against his broken leg. It was in a cast. He’d be fine.

“I got in the car,” Isaac answered, tone more hostile than Jackson had expected. He’d expected a sniveling apology. 

“You fuckin’ left the school.”

“At least this way no one had to see us together,” Isaac answered.

Jackson thought about telling Isaac off, but that was the same thing he had been thinking, and an idea occurred to him. “Fine. I’ll start picking you up and dropping you off a couple blocks away.”

“ _Start?_ ” Isaac asked. 

Jackson wanted to take enjoyment from the alarm in Isaac’s voice, but he couldn’t manage it. This situation sucked. He was going to be stuck with Isaac for god only knew how long. “Yeah, pretty sure my parents are going to make this a regular thing.”

“Fuck,” Isaac mumbled under his breath.

Jackson agreed with that assessment as he grunted and turned on the radio, hoping to make it clear even to someone as dumb as Isaac that the conversation was over.

They didn’t say anything else to each other that night, even once they got home and Jackson’s mother insisted on a ‘family dinner.’ Jackson was disappointed she wasn’t already passed out so she would leave him alone. At least Jackson’s father was working late that night like always. Jackson would have been absolutely livid if the man had started making a habit of coming home early for Isaac Fucking Lahey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was still a pretty rough chapter for Isaac and that Jackson doesn’t seem to be getting any better, but things will start to improve soon, so I hope you guys stick with the story.
> 
> Thanks very much to everyone who has read and commented. Feedback is always greatly appreciated.
> 
> Happy Holidays!


	4. The Slow Thaw

Isaac was in a good mood as he rode to school with Jackson one morning in late October almost three weeks after he had moved in with the Whittemores. He and Jackson had established a routine of not speaking to each other as Jackson drove them to and from school, dropping off and picking up Isaac a block away on a side street so that fewer people would see them together. However, what had started as an aggressive, hostile silence on Jackson’s part and a defensive, anxious silence on Isaac’s, had gradually mellowed into regular, run-of-the-mill silence. They didn’t speak to each other, but Jackson no longer drove like a maniac or shot Isaac furious glares just for existing.

This morning, however, the atmosphere in the car had further improved. Sometimes Jackson would turn on a playlist from his phone, but just as often he would radio surf until he found something that caught his attention. Today he had tuned into a morning show that was having callers phone in with their most embarrassing Halloween stories for the chance to win a prize. A lot of the stories were hysterical and by the time they reached Isaac’s usual drop off destination, their snickers and quiet chuckles had turned into hardy laughter. Jackson had even started heckling the callers, and Isaac too had tentatively made a few comments that didn’t require a response. It still wasn’t quite a pleasant conversation, but it was as close as they had ever gotten. Isaac was even somewhat sorry to get out of the car when Jackson pulled to a stop. That was a major first.

“Lahey,” Jackson called just as Isaac was about to close the car door.

_Fuck, he just has to do something to screw this up._

Isaac reluctantly turned and leaned back into the car to see what Jackson wanted.

“Your phone, dumbass,” Jackson said, nodding at the passenger seat where Isaac had left it. Jackson’s face was still lit with humor and for once his words lacked any genuine heat.

Isaac felt his cheeks warm in a blush as he grabbed the device from the seat and mumbled, “Thanks.”

As Jackson drove off and Isaac arranged his crutches under his arms for the short walk the rest of the way to school, he glanced at the phone in his hand. It was nice, new. The Whittemores had gotten it for him right after he had moved in. He slid it into the pocket of his pants, which were also new and also a lot nicer than anything he’d worn before he’d been taken away from his father. That morning he’d had a delicious breakfast of his choosing – hash browns, scrambled eggs, and orange juice – prepared by a frickin maid. When he got home from school today, he could count on a hug and kiss from Mrs. Whittemore, and if Mr. Whittemore made it home in time for dinner that night, he would dutifully, if a bit mechanically, ask Isaac about his day. 

Isaac took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying for at least the hundredth time to mentally adjusted to his new reality. It still didn’t make any sense. Why would the Whittemores go out of their way to take Isaac in and treat him like their long-lost son? Dr. Johnson had pointed out during one of their therapy sessions that Isaac had trust issues. _Gee, no shit, doc._ But trust issues or not, Isaac didn’t think he was wrong to be suspicious or to wait for the other shoe to drop. 

* * *

“Lydia, did Jackson tell you about Liam?” Danny asked, leaning over the table and smiling at Jackson’s girlfriend with the mischievous grin he only used when he was gossiping. 

Jackson rolled his eyes at his friend. “Yeah, I just couldn’t wait to call her up and dish about it when I got done with practice.”

Lydia swatted Jackson’s arm and moved her bread plate so that she could lean closer to Danny. A mirroring grin was on her face as she arched her eyebrows and lowered her voice. “What happened with Liam?”

Ethan laughed and rubbed his boyfriend’s back before shaking his head at Jackson. 

“I know,” Jackson muttered to him.

“Sshhh!” Lydia swatted him again then returned her attention to Danny. “Sooo, _what_ happened with Liam?”

The couples were on a double date at one of Beacon Hill’s trendier restaurants. Jackson didn’t think much of it. The ingredients seemed to be weird just for the sake of being weird, and drizzling colorful sauce on the plates didn’t disguise the fact that the food was bland and came in laughably small portions. Jackson’s three dinner companions had been eager to try the place, but Jackson would be damned if he’d ever let them talk him into coming here again.

“He has I.E.D.,” Danny answered when he couldn’t drag the suspense out any longer.

Lydia’s jaw dropped and she blinked at him. “Oh my god! He has an improvised explosive device?!”

Jackson and Ethan burst out laughing.

“Way to be misleading, babe.” Ethan draped his arm around Danny’s shoulders and squeezed, briefly pressing his head against Danny’s.

“So he doesn’t have a bomb?” Lydia frowned at Danny and glared at Jackson and Ethan in turn.

“He does,” Danny answered, before lowering his voice and whispering conspiratorially, “but it’s inside of him.” 

“Oh stop!” Ethan gave Danny a light shove. He looked at Lydia, still snickering. “He was diagnosed with Intermittent Explosive Disorder. Basically, what it is is–”

Lydia held up a hand. “I know what it is. I read the DSM-5 last month.”

Danny shrugged and gave Lydia an apologetic smirk. “It’s actually kind of a big deal though. He’s going to be going to therapy for it.”

“It makes sense though,” Ethan said, setting his napkin over his empty plate. “Liam can be really nice and cool some of the time, but other times he turns into a raging prick.”

“So then what’s Aiden’s excuse?” Jackson asked, tilting his head innocently. Ethan flipped him off on behalf of his brother but snickered.

“I’m glad Liam’s getting help,” Lydia said, ignoring their antics.

Jackson grumbled. “I just hope he doesn’t get better until after playoffs.”

The other three people at the table glared at Jackson with varying degrees of surprise on their faces.

“What?” Jackson asked, sitting back in his seat defensively. “We need that fire out on the field. He can learn to control himself during off season.”

“Oh of course. Liam should suffer so that it doesn’t inconvenience you,” Lydia said, arms folded as she slid away from Jackson in the booth. “Like Isaac.”

“What?” Danny asked, looking between them.

“He’s still pissed off Isaac moved in with him, instead of _living in an abusive home._ ” Lydia’s scowl deepened, and Jackson cursed himself for ever telling her anything about the situation with Isaac. Now Danny was giving Jackson a disappointed look too. Great, this was all Jackson needed, his girlfriend and his best friend ganging up on him.

“Wait, Isaac was being abused?” Ethan asked. His face flashed with realization. “Is that how his arm and leg got broken?”

“And is that why his dad got arrested?” Danny asked.

“Yes, okay?! That’s what happened.” Jackson glared back at them. He didn’t need to sit here and get judged. It’s not like _he_ was the one abusing Isaac. Jackson and his family didn’t owe Isaac shit.

“Fuck. That really sucks. I had no idea,” Ethan said.

“Me either,” Lydia said. “No wonder he’s so shy and has trouble making friends.”

_Right, everyone knows personality is the first thing to get beaten out of someone._

“Hey, instead of going out to the movies, let’s go back to Jackson’s and watch something there. That way we can get Isaac to join us,” Danny said, his fucking obnoxious dimples on full display to get what he wanted.

“That’s a great idea!” Ethan pressed a kiss to Danny’s still grinning lips.

“I agree, that’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Lydia said, giving Jackson a challenging look.

“Oh no. No way. Not happening.”

“Come on, Jackson. I’ll make it worth your while tonight after the movie’s over.” She winked at him and leaned over to rub his thigh, causing her blouse to hang open and reveal more of her cleavage. Jackson knew it wasn’t an accident.

Danny and Ethan howled and catcalled. 

Jackson wanted to put up more resistance but then Lydia’s hand slid higher and– 

“I hate you all,” Jackson said, waving the waiter over for the check. He might as well get this over with.

“He’s not even going to want to do this,” Jackson said a little while later when they were in Danny’s car on the way back to Jackson’s house. “He’s completely antisocial.”

“Everyone wants friends,” Danny insisted.

“Yeah, it’s probably just hard for him to trust people,” Ethan said.

“He’s seriously not even a very nice person,” Jackson answered.

“Well, you’d be the expert on that,” Lydia remarked sweetly. She kissed Jackson’s cheek when he pouted.

Once they got back to Jackson’s house, Lydia and Danny went upstairs to convince Isaac to join them while Jackson and Ethan went to the entertainment room. Ethan’s phone beeped as they were setting things up, and he laughed out loud when he checked the message.

“What?” Jackson asked.

“Hmm? Oh, just something Aiden said. It wouldn’t make much sense out of context. He’s doing this thing where he narrates what Malia’s doing, _National Geographic_ style, because he says she’s like a wild predator stalking her prey.”

Jackson snickered and rolled his eyes before something occurred to him. “That’s cool that you guys make fun of his girlfriend together.” He hardened his voice. “Do you do that with Danny too?”

“Whoa, whoa.” Ethan raised his hands. “Retract your claws, dude. Aiden’s crazy about Malia. He’s not doing it in a mean way. It’s just a stupid twin thing. And no, we don’t do that about Danny.”

Jackson frowned, embarrassed that he had gotten overprotective of Danny – _Ugh, what if Ethan tells him?_ – and also pretty damn tired of ‘stupid twin things.’ He had lost another lacrosse skirmish to Ethan and Aiden thanks to their damn uncanny ability to predict each other’s moves. It worked to the team’s advantage during real games, but Jackson was sick of being shown up at practice. 

“Do you guys have that twin telepathy thing?”

Ethan laughed and looked at Jackson like he was an idiot – which admittedly, Jackson knew that had been a dumb question.

“Yeah, man, I dunno why Aiden even bothered texting me. He shoulda just thought real hard about his comment and I woulda gotten it.”

Jackson grunted and rolled his eyes. He didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. 

“It’s not magic,” Ethan continued. “We just know each other really well and are on the same wavelength. Being a twin is really cool.”

Jackson started to ask another question, still curious, but let the conversation end as Lydia’s and Danny’s voices drifted down the hallway. Based on the overly cheerful, slightly stilted way they were speaking, Isaac was probably with them. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. At least Jackson and Isaac had gotten good at ignoring each other, and considering that Isaac would undoubtedly be way more uncomfortable than Jackson, it might even be fun to watch.

* * *

“So, how long until your casts are removed?” Dr. Johnson asked as Isaac sat down to start his therapy session. She usually made small talk like this before easing into things. Isaac appreciated that.

“About two more weeks for my hand. Maybe three for my leg.”

“I’m sure that’ll be a relief. It must be tough to keep up with homework and other activities in the meantime.”

Isaac shrugged and sat further back in the leather chair he was sitting in. “The Whittemores have the school making all these special arrangements for me.”

“How nice.”

Isaac’s cheeks heated in a blush. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Because it calls extra attention to you and you’d rather blend into the background?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Isaac hesitated for a few seconds before continuing with a related train of thought. “Last night I had to hang out with some people from school. They were being nice but...it was awkward and I wish they had just ignored me and left me alone.”

Isaac spent the next few minutes relating the events of the night before. There wasn’t that much to tell. He had just been sitting in his room when Lydia Martin and Danny Mahealani had shown up and pretty much politely forced him to go downstairs and watch a movie with them and Jackson and Ethan. It wouldn’t have been too bad if they had just watched it straight through and let Isaac go back to his room, but they kept trying to make conversation with him before and after the movie, and during a couple of breaks the group took.

“Do you think you might like to be friends with them?” Dr. Johnson asked.

Isaac laughed out loud. “Yeah, _that’s_ gonna happen. They’re the popular clique. Plus Jackson would kill me...I’m kinda worried he’s going to be pissed about last night.”

“I thought you said last time that the two of you were getting along better?”

“We are, or were. We’re like, ignoring each other in a less hostile way now. But he’s not going to be cool with me hanging out with his friends.”

“Why not?”

Isaac thought it over before answering. “Well, I can’t even really blame him. I mean, I moved into his house out of nowhere, and his parents started spending all this money on me and giving me all this attention. Now suddenly his friends are paying attention to me too? It probably seems like I’m trying to take over his life or something.”

“That’s very insightful, Isaac,” she said with a faint smile. “Have you considered trying to become friends with him? That way he wouldn’t see you as a threat and might even enjoy your company.”

Isaac laughed again. “I don’t think Jackson Whittemore sees me as a threat, and he definitely doesn’t want to be my friend. I’m just lucky – and kind of amazed – that he hasn’t outright assaulted me. I guess because his parents would be pissed.”

“So you’re starting to trust your foster parents more?”

Isaac chewed his lip, unsure of the answer. “No? But sort of? I trust that they aren’t going to suddenly start abu-...hurting me, and yeah, they’re weird people but...I actually really like them. I just still don’t, like, trust their motives or whatever.”

“You think they have an ulterior motive for helping you?”

“Yeah, probably.” _Does that make me sound paranoid?_

“What do you think it is?”

Isaac shrugged. “I have no clue.”

When Isaac finished his therapy session he found Mrs. Whittemore in the lobby waiting for him, just like he did after every session. He didn’t understand why she did that. She could have just had Grant take him to and from therapy.

When she saw him, she stood and flounced over to him with her usual exuberant flourish. “How was therapy, sweetie?”

Isaac tentatively wrapped an arm around her back as she threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek, like she always did when she greeted him. That was weird too. He had only been gone an hour. It hardly called for such an enthusiastic greeting. Still, Isaac had grown to really like her over the past few weeks and now that he was somewhat more comfortable around her, he could accept that she was a hugger.

“It was fine,” he answered.

“Good.” She smiled and squeezed his arm before changing the subject. “Let’s go to lunch! I’m dying for a cocktail.”

Isaac frowned. Her drinking wasn’t any of his business but he knew that once she got started she basically wouldn’t stop until she passed out that night, and it wasn’t even 11:00am yet. It would have been better if she had at least waited a little bit later in the day to get started.

Predictably, one cocktail turned into three and lunch turned into shopping for more new clothes for Isaac, which he didn’t even want or need. Nevertheless, Isaac had been almost relieved when she had suggested shopping because it meant she would have to stop drinking while they were in the stores...or so Isaac thought.

When Grant showed up to take over the driving duties he discreetly handed her a silver flask – _and holy fuck!_ Did society women drink from a flask in high-end stores? That seemed so _un_ classy, not to mention illegal. 

Isaac grew more and more concerned as the day wore on and he eventually had to help her though the stores, supporting almost all her weight with his good arm. There was no way the store clerks didn’t know what was going on, but evidently they didn’t care as long as she kept spending money and didn’t become belligerent, which Isaac had to hand it to her, she didn’t. He had never known someone to drink so much and not get hostile or abusive – of course Isaac’s sample size really only consisted of one very memorable subject – but her fundamental personality didn’t change very much. She only got sloppier and more effusive. 

She normally nursed her buzz all afternoon and evening, not passing out until after dinner. Today, however, she was gone by the time they got home. Isaac and Grant managed to wrangle her into the house and onto a sofa in the front room, but then she was out cold. 

“Do you want me to carry her upstairs to bed?” Grant asked uncertainly, clearly not enthusiastic about the proposition.

“Uhh...” Isaac really shouldn’t have been the one to make that call. He checked the time on his phone. It was Sunday, but Mr. Whittemore wouldn’t be home for several more hours, and Isaac was quite sure this wasn’t something he would consider worthy of an interruption while he was at the office. Isaac sighed as he realized his only other option. “I’ll go ask Jackson what he thinks we should do.”

Isaac really wanted to tell Grant to go ask Jackson himself, but he had been carefully avoiding getting into the habit of telling Grant and Vicky what to do. 

A little while later as Isaac was walking down the hallway he shared with Jackson, he couldn’t help but wonder how much of a shitty person it would make him if he just turned and went through his own door instead of knocking on Jackson’s. It was tempting, but he didn’t want to leave Grant in the lurch, and he also wanted to make sure Mrs. Whittemore was taken care of. 

He knocked lightly on Jackson’s bedroom door, his stomach roiling with nerves. 

“Come in,” Jackson called, annoyance already plain in his voice, and he didn’t even know Isaac was the person disturbing him yet. Jackson usually spent Sunday afternoon studying – because apparently a perfect GPA still wasn’t good enough for Mr. All American – and evidently he didn’t like being interrupted. That was absolutely no surprise.

“Hey,” Isaac said softly as he stuck his head into the room. 

Jackson was sitting at his desk, books opened around him. His eyes widened in obvious surprise that Isaac was daring to speak to him. Then he narrowed them again and glared at Isaac. “What do you want?”

“Uhm your mom...uh she’s downstairs.”

One corner of Jackson’s mouth pulled up and his eyebrows drew together, like he was genuinely confused and appalled by Isaac’s stupidity. “Thanks for the update.”

“She’s uh, you know, not awake.”

Now Jackson did look mildly concerned, and he sat up straighter. “Is she okay?”

“She’s been...drinking a–a few drinks.” Isaac was aware that he was waving his hand and nodding like an idiot, and that the tone of his voice made it sound like what had happened was a complete mystery. “And now she’s not awake.”

“She passed out.” Jackson explained it like he was talking to a small child.

“That must be it,” Isaac agreed with another nod. Okay maybe the way Jackson always looked at him wasn’t completely unwarranted.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Come look?” Isaac didn’t like the pleading tone in his voice, but he couldn’t help it.

Jackson huffed but surprised Isaac by standing up and muttering, “Fine.”

Jackson outpaced Isaac going downstairs since Isaac had to navigate the stairs on his crutches. He was already talking to Grant by the time Isaac joined them.

“Do you want me to carry her upstairs, sir?” Grant asked.

Jackson shook his head and frowned at his unconscious mother. “No, she’d be embarrassed when she wakes up if you do that. Let’s just leave her here to sober up.”

“We should get her a pillow and blanket and make sure she stays on her side. And maybe take off her shoes so she’s more comfortable,” Isaac said. This wasn’t exactly the first time he'd had to take care of a passed out drunk. In retrospect he probably should have just handled this himself all along without involving Jackson or even Grant.

“I’ll go get those things,” Grant said before leaving the room.

Jackson sighed and surprised Isaac again with his response. “I’ll take off her shoes.”

“I’ll sit with her so she doesn’t roll over,” Isaac said.

“Wooo, go team,” Jackson muttered under his breath as he sat on the edge of the sofa.

Isaac laughed and gave Jackson a small smile when he looked back in Isaac’s direction. 

When Jackson finished his task, Isaac coughed and cleared his throat. He felt responsible for the situation since he had been with her when it was happening. “Should I have done something? Like tried to get her to stop or slow down?”

“It’s...not really your fault,” Jackson answered, sounding as awkward as Isaac had ever heard him. “This is just what she does.”

“Why?” Isaac asked softly, not meeting Jackson’s eyes. He knew it was none of his business but...he cared about why it was happening, and he wanted to do something if he could.

“I don’t fucking know!” Jackson snapped, startling Isaac. “Ask her when she wakes up if you want to know so bad.”

“Sorry,” Isaac mumbled, still not looking up.

“This seriously has nothing to do with you,” Jackson said sharply before striding out of the room. 

Jackson’s tone had been hostile and he was obviously pissed off at Isaac, but Isaac couldn’t help feeling relieved. Isaac’s father had always told him that his drinking was all Isaac’s fault, that the ‘discipline’ he _had_ to perform on Isaac was all Isaac’s fault, that pretty much everything wrong in their lives was all Isaac’s fault. Isaac hadn’t believed him of course...except that he kind of totally had. Regardless, it was a relief being told the opposite, even in an angry tone: this _wasn’t_ Isaac’s fault and it didn’t have anything to do with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always greatly appreciated and certainly motivates me to work more quickly.


	5. The Revelation

Jackson knew he wasn’t going to like whatever his father had to say before he even sat down. It was a Tuesday evening and Jackson’s parents had just come home from a parents’ night at Beacon Hills High. Jackson found it irritating that his parents went to parents’ nights at all, especially his father. His father practically lived at his office. He skipped out on most of Jackson’s lacrosse games and other events, but _these_ he pulled himself away for? Fuck that.

Parents’ nights didn’t matter anyway. All Jackson’s teachers ever told his parents was that he was a very good student, and some added that he had a bad attitude, but as long as Jackson’s grades were good and he didn’t get in serious trouble, his parents didn’t hassle him. 

Tonight, however, Jackson could tell there was a problem. As soon as his parents got home, Jackson’s father called him and Isaac to his study. _Isaac Fucking Lahey. He’s the problem isn’t he?_

“I just came from your school,” Jackson’s father said to them as Jackson sank into the chair next to Isaac’s across from his father’s desk.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jackson noticed Isaac fussing with the cast on his hand. He wondered what nervous habit the loser would pick up once that cast finally came off.

“Jackson, your grades are excellent,” his father said, smiling at him. “Well done. I’m proud of you, son.”

Jackson grunted like he didn’t care, like he wasn’t inwardly glowing from the praise and the approval on his father’s face.

“Isaac...yours aren’t.”

Jackson bit back a laugh. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he would enjoy this conversation after all.

Isaac visibly swallowed and squeezed his cast harder. “I’m sorry.” 

Isaac looked up like he thought Jackson’s father was about to hit him. _Newsflash: he’s not like your piece of shit dad, Lahey._

“I’ve been trying. I-I’m just not getting it.”

“I know,” Jackson’s father folded his hands on his desk. “Your teachers said that, that you were clearly trying, and doing marginally better, but you’re behind in most subjects.”

“I’m sorry,” Isaac repeated. 

_LOSER!_

Jackson’s father raised a hand. “It’s not your fault.”

_Then whose fucking fault is it?_

“Your previous home environment wasn’t conducive to academic achievement.”

_Careful, Dad, you might want to stick to one-syllable words._

“That’s why Jackson is going to tutor you.”

“WHAT?!”

“Calm down,” Jackson’s father said, giving him a stern look.

“I will not.” Jackson glared at Isaac. He was staring into his lap, shoulders hunched around him. “Hire him a tutor if you want him to have one so bad. Why should it be my responsibility?”

Jackson’s father didn’t answer right away. Instead he folded his hands on the desk again and sat back in his chair, gaze lingering on Jackson and Isaac each in turn. “I know this arrangement isn’t what either of you would have chosen, but I’ve made my decision and it isn’t up for debate. I’m sure you’ll both work hard and impress me with the results.”

Jackson frowned and tried to tell himself that his father was wrong, that he _wouldn’t_ work hard, that he _wouldn’t_ try to make his father proud of him by helping Isaac improve his grades. There was no way that should have been Jackson’s responsibility, and it would serve his father right if he blew it off and let Isaac fail. Yet he couldn’t ignore the involuntary spark of determination that flared in his gut. His father was challenging Jackson to make him proud; no, worse than that, he was telling Jackson he would be _disappointed_ if he failed.

Jackson glanced at Isaac, already determined to do whatever it took to bring his grades up. He was visibly upset, and Jackson found himself uncharacteristically wondering what Isaac was thinking. Was he as worried as Jackson was about disappointing Jackson’s father? Did he think Jackson’s parents would kick him out if he couldn’t do better in school? Was he simply dreading the thought of spending time with Jackson as much as Jackson was dreading spending time with him? 

Jackson sighed. It didn’t matter. They had work to do. “Let’s go, Lahey. Get all your school stuff and come to my room. We’ll figure out a game plan.” 

Isaac raised his head and looked at Jackson with a terrified expression on his face. It was the right reaction. Jackson was going to make Isaac work his ass off. He figured if a gorilla could learn sign language and a parrot could learn to count, then even Isaac Lahey should be able grasp the fundamentals of algebra. 

* * *

Jackson was scary. Isaac had always thought Jackson was scary in a mean, douchebag kind of way, but now he was reconsidering things. Now he decided Jackson was scary in a color-coded-notes, flashcards-are-the-currency-of-education, why-yes-I-can-recite-this-history-book-line-for-line kind of way. 

“Solve for X,” Jackson said, flipping open Isaac’s Algebra II book and pointing at one of the problems from his homework.

Isaac’s cheeks burned as he stared at the problem, at a loss for how to even begin. Eventually he took a wild stab at it and began randomly moving variables from one side of the equation to the other.

“Stop.” Jackson flipped back a couple of units and pointed at a problem from the beginning of the year. “Solve for X.”

Isaac sighed and looked up at Jackson, shaking his head. 

Jackson grumbled and closed the book, and Isaac briefly thought Jackson might have been letting him off the hook. Maybe they could work on American History or English Lit. Isaac was much better at those. His hopes were dashed as Jackson went to his shelf and pulled out an Algebra I book - because _of course_ Jackson had copies of old textbooks meticulously archived in his bookcase of crazy. 

“Solve for X,” Jackson said, pointing at a problem in the middle of the book.

Isaac glared at him, but breathed a sigh of relief as he glanced at the equation and realized he actually did know where to start.

“Good,” Jackson said a few minutes later as Isaac finished and he looked it over. Jackson’s tone was laced with sarcasm and condescension, and Isaac heard the unspoken, _Good – at least you’re not completely brain dead._

From there Jackson skipped forward a few more units and made Isaac do another problem, repeating the process until they settled on a unit near the three quarter mark that seemed to be where Isaac’s skills petered out. To Isaac’s surprise, as soon as Jackson had marked the page with a sticky note he closed the book.

“You’re not going to teach me how to do it?”

“Not yet. Just figuring out what we’re up against. Chemistry next.” Jackson said it cruelly, like he already knew it was Isaac’s worst subject. Oh right, there had been a question about best and worst subjects in the questionnaire Mr. Whittemore had made Isaac fill out. It figured that Jackson had actually memorized Isaac’s responses. Isaac was beginning to think Jackson memorized things for fun in his spare time. He could probably rattle off all the ingredients in his toothpaste if Isaac asked.

Chemistry was much worse than Algebra, and Jackson seemed personally offended that he had to explain to Isaac what valence electrons were and why they mattered. _Try sleeping overnight in a freezer with your arms twisted behind your back, and then see how important the Bohr Model seems, asshole!_

They repeated the process with the rest of Isaac’s classes until Jackson was satisfied that he knew all of Isaac’s weak spots – _Oh joy!_ – and then he reviewed Isaac’s schedule for the week.

“You have a chemistry test _tomorrow?!_ ” 

Isaac flinched. Jackson looked ready to hit him. “Uhm...yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that three hours ago?”

“...You didn’t ask?”

Jackson clenched his jaw and slammed the English Lit book against the desk. “Go to bed.”

“Uh what?”

“Go to bed. Right now. You’re getting up two hours early to study.”

Isaac looked at his phone. “It’s not even midnight yet. I’d rather study now and–” 

“You need a full night’s sleep. Tomorrow I’ll show you how to cram to learn stuff short-term for the test, but I’m still making you learn it the right way later.”

“Why?”

Jackson huffed. “So that when I ask you what a valence electron is in three months you’ll actually know.”

Isaac smirked. “Are you _planning_ to ask me what a valence electron is in three months? ‘Cause that’s kinda weird, dude.”

“Go the fuck to bed, Lahey.” 

Isaac chuckled and left Jackson’s room. If he hadn’t known better he would have sworn Jackson was fighting to keep a smile off his face at the end there. 

 

* * *

“Jackson, how’s lacrosse going?” Jackson’s father asked, leaning back so that Vicky could refill his water glass.

It was Sunday evening and they were having their weekly family dinner. Jackson had been waiting for the question.

“Friday’s the championship game.” Jackson shrugged and speared a floret of broccoli with his fork, trying to act casual. “It starts at six in Riverdale if you wanna come.”

“Of course we’ll be there, honey!” His mother clasped her hands together and squealed. “This is so exciting!” 

“Thanks, Mom.” Jackson redirected his attention to his father, still waiting for his response, but his mother interrupted again.” 

“Isaac, sweetie, you’re coming to the game too, right?”

Isaac coughed and glanced at his plate, then briefly over at Jackson before dropping his gaze again. “Yeah, uh sure. I’ll come.”

“You don’t have to,” Jackson said, glaring at him.

“Oh he wants to!” Jackson’s mother insisted. “Don’t you want to, sweetie?”

Isaac hid his mouth behind his glass of soda and mumbled an unconvincing, “Yeah.”

_Fuck, he just has to intrude on everything._

“Honey, why don’t you have a party for the team to celebrate after the game? We’ll provide the alcohol!” Jackson’s mother said as she took a swig of her own cocktail.

“Lana, for christsake, they’re in high school.”

“Oh that’s right.” She frowned but then a sly smile lit her face and she winked at Jackson. “Well we won’t notice if any alcohol goes missing.”

“Dad?” Jackson asked.

“We _will_ notice,” Jackson’s father answered, glaring at Jackson’s mother. “We can’t have drunk minors leaving our home. If anyone drinks at all – however that happens – they have to stay the night.”

“I meant are you coming to the game?” Jackson asked, keeping his face carefully neutral.

“Friday? I need to check my sched–”

“David.” Jackson’s mother’s tone was harsh, and from the corner of his eye Jackson noticed Isaac flinch and snap his head up in surprise.

“I’ll certainly do everything in my power to be there, son,” his father answered. 

Jackson recognized the guilt already on his face. He grunted in acknowledgment and cut into a piece of chicken, his fork and knife clinking against the plate.

_So you’re not going to be there. Got it._

 

* * *

Isaac fidgeted with his cast for perhaps the last time as Mr. Whittemore drove him to his doctor’s appointment to have it removed. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and he didn’t understand why Mr. Whittemore was taking him instead of Mrs. Whittemore. 

“Relax, Isaac, everything’s fine,” Mr. Whittemore said with a reassuring smile. 

Isaac breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.

“I just wanted us to have a chance to speak in private.”

Isaac inhaled again, this time through gritted teeth as dread pooled in his stomach. It wasn’t that he didn’t like talking to Mr. Whittemore. The man had made it a point to spend one-on-one time with Isaac on numerous occasions over the last six weeks that Isaac had been living with the Whittemores, and Isaac found him pleasant and easy to talk to. The problem was that Mr. Whittemore had taken time off work for this, and Isaac knew he wouldn't do that unless it was something serious.

“My grades have been better since Jackson's been tutoring me,” Isaac blurted out, at a loss for why else Mr. Whittemore might have been angry with him. It was true too. It had only been about a week since Jackson had started tutoring him, but Isaac had done significantly better on all three of the tests he’d taken in that time, even chemistry. 

“I know. You’re doing great, son.” Mr. Whittemore clapped Isaac on the shoulder. “I hadn't expected such immediate improvement. I’m very proud of you.”

The blood tingled in Isaac’s veins. That was the first time Mr. Whittemore had called him ‘son,’ a term which until now he had exclusively used to address Jackson. Isaac tried not to over-think it. Lots of men Mr. Whittemore’s age might generically call a guy Isaac’s age that. Nevertheless, Isaac was beyond relieved that Jackson hadn’t been around to hear it. 

“Thanks,” Isaac answered quietly, feeling an unfamiliar glow of pride.

“Your father’s trial is coming up.”

“What?!” 

“It’s next week.”

Isaac gaped at him. 

“They want you to testify.” Mr. Whittemore sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I tried to arrange for you to meet with the judge privately or pre-record a statement, but they want you on the stand.”

“I-I can’t. I don’t know what to say.” Isaac’s heart raced. The idea of seeing the man in person after all this time was terrifying.

“I’ll help you prepare, but all you’ll have to do is truthfully answer the questions the attorneys ask.”

“You...you’re not going to be my attorney?”

Mr. Whittemore shook his head. “You won’t have an attorney. There’ll be a prosecutor representing the state and your father will have a defense attorney. Ms. Newcastle will be present on behalf of CPS, and of course Lana and I will be there with you for moral support, but we’ll also be testifying as witnesses since we overheard the final incident, and because we want you to be placed in our custody.”

“Like...permanently?”

Mr. Whittemore smiled and squeezed Isaac’s shoulder. “Yes, we’d like that very much.”

“Are-are you sure?” Isaac asked. It felt less weird than it had when they had first taken him in because he had gotten used to living with them, but he had still always assumed in the back of his mind that there was an expiration date on the arrangement.

Mr. Whittemore laughed and gave Isaac the warmest smile he had ever seen from the man. “Positive.”

Isaac nodded slowly as he absorbed that information, finding that he actually believed it. There was just one problem. “What about Jackson?”

“He’s coming around, don’t you think?”

“I guess.” Isaac shrugged. Jackson had been less hostile since he had started tutoring Isaac. He frequently got frustrated with Isaac when he didn’t know something Jackson thought he should know, but overall he was more patient than Isaac had expected, and he seemed to be enjoying showing off how smart he was. 

A few minutes later they pulled into the parking garage for the doctor’s office and Mr. Whittemore turned off the car. However, he didn’t make a move to get out and stopped Isaac as he started to.

“Isaac.” Mr. Whittemore waited until Isaac made eye contact with him before continuing. He looked uncharacteristically nervous. “Are you happy with us? If you’re not and there’s anything we can work on, then that’s what we’ll do, but...this is your decision. We want you, please don’t doubt that, but if you think you’d be happier somewhere else, we’ll understand. We want what's best for you.”

“No, no, no,” Isaac repeated, stunned by how devastated Mr. Whittemore looked at the possibility of him leaving, like it was physically painful to him. “I’m happy. I’m-I’m the happiest I’ve been since my brother died. I want to stay.”

“Oh thank god!” The next thing Isaac knew, Mr. Whittemore had pulled him into a tight hug, ruffling the hair on the back of his head and squeezing him close.

Isaac returned the hug as tightly as he could with one hand still in a cast, trying to ignore the flood of emotion he felt and the way his composure was slipping. “Thank you,” he whispered.

After a little while Mr. Whittemore pulled back, clapping Isaac’s shoulder again as he smiled at him. “Come on, son, let’s go get that cast off your hand.”

* * *

Jackson was in a good mood when he got home from lacrosse practice that Wednesday night. He was confident that Beacon Hills was going to win the championship on Friday. Their final practice had gone well. If anything, Liam’s ability to better control his anger allowed him to be just as aggressive, but more focused. Aiden and Ethan were still doing their freakishly well-coordinated twin thing, and Jackson was sure they would mop the field with a team unfamiliar with their tricks. Meanwhile, Danny was blocking everything that moved, and Theo’s constant need to show off was propelling him to hone the skills necessary to actually back that up. Even Greenberg was shaping up to be solidly mediocre. As for Jackson, well there was a reason he was team captain. He was stronger, faster, and a better shot than anyone else on the team. He was also an expert at legally taking down his opponents. Riverdale was going to get crushed!

Jackson texted Isaac as soon as he got out of his Porsche. He had showered after practice and had already grabbed a bite to eat with Danny and the twins. Now he just wanted to get his babysitting duties over with for the night and help Isaac with his homework so he could have the rest of the evening to himself. Maybe he could talk Lydia into sneaking over after everyone went to bed. He had given her a key to his house the week before. It was time she use it.

Isaac hadn’t answered his text by the time Jackson went to his room and put away his things, and he wasn’t in his own room either. Jackson grumbled and sent Isaac a second, more hostile text, as he walked around the house looking for him. Vicky pointed Jackson toward the parlor and when Jackson walked in he was surprised to find his parents there as well.

“Homework. Let’s go,” Jackson said, snapping his fingers at Isaac after grunting a perfunctory greeting at his parents. Jackson didn’t verbally acknowledge the fact that Isaac’s casts had come off and the crutches were gone, replaced by only a leg brace, but he silently hoped it would make Isaac less of an unbearable klutz. 

“Homework can wait,” Jackson’s father said. “We need to have a family meeting first.”

“A family meeting?” Jackson asked, rolling his eyes. He didn’t bother pointing out that a family meeting _shouldn’t_ have included Isaac. 

“Come sit down, honey,” Jackson’s mother said, patting the space next to her on the couch.

Jackson’s father was sitting next to the couch in the wing-back leather chair he preferred, and Isaac was sitting on the couch on the opposite side of Jackson’s mother.

“Is this going to take long?” Jackson asked, reluctantly settling into the empty space on the couch. 

“Son, the trial for Isaac’s father is next week.”

“So he’s leaving soon?” Jackson couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. 

Jackson’s father glared at him as his mother placed a hand on Isaac’s arm.

“No, assuming Mr. Lahey is convicted, he’ll be stripped of his parental rights.”

“ _Okay,_ ” Jackson said slowly, a sick feeling settling into his gut as he anticipated where this conversation was going.

“And we’ll finally be able to adopt him.”

“WHAT!?!” Jackson jumped to his feet, furious. Anticipating the news hadn’t dulled the sting. He glared at Isaac and waved his arm at him as he shouted, “Him?! You want to adopt _him?!_ ”

“Baby, sit down,” Jackson’s mother said with one of her patented tight-lipped smiles as she tugged on Jackson’s wrist. Her other arm was around Isaac’s shoulders now, and Jackson hated how fucking comfortable Isaac looked with the gesture, the way he leaned into her as he stared at the floor between his feet.

“I will not!” Jackson snapped as he turned to walk out of the room. Before he could take a step, however, his father was on his feet, blocking Jackson’s path and placing restraining hands on each of his arms. Jackson narrowed his eyes on the man. “Let go.”

“Sit down.” His father’s voice rang with authority and the look he was giving Jackson brought him up short.

“Why?” Jackson asked, jaw clenched as he tossed himself back onto the couch. “Why him? What-” –Jackson forced the tremor out of his voice– “What’s wrong with me?”

“Oh honey, nothing’s wrong with you!” Jackson’s mother kissed his cheek and rubbed his back. “You’re incredible!”

“Don’t touch me,” Jackson said, stiffening under her hand. He leaned over and glowered past her at Isaac. “I swear to god, Lahey, you will never–”

“That’s enough!” Jackson’s father said, hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “Stop talking now before you say something you’ll regret.”

“I won’t regret it.” Jackson’s blood was boiling. His parents had basically just slapped him in the face, told him he had never been good enough. Now all that was left was for them to tell him they regretted ever adopting him, that they wanted _Isaac Fucking Lahey_ instead. He didn’t care if his father grounded him until he was eighteen, he didn’t care if he took away his car and canceled all his credit cards, Jackson was _going_ to tell Isaac exactly what he thought of him. His head snapped back in Isaac’s direction. “Lahey, you are a goddamn–”

Jackson’s eyes went wide as his father clamped his hand over Jackson’s mouth. And _what the actual fuck?!_ He was treating Jackson like he was a child throwing a tantrum in public.

“He’s your brother!”

Jackson shoved the man’s hand away from his face. “He is _not_ my brother! I don’t care if you do fucking adopt him! He’ll never be my fucking brother!”

Jackson stood and tried to push past his father but he grabbed him and held him in place. Jackson really didn’t want to raise his hand to his father, but his temper was reaching its breaking point. 

“I don’t mean your adopted brother.” His father’s voice was calm, quiet, and the look on his face was unsettling. “He’s always been your brother.”

A cold terror crept up Jackson’s spine and he quit struggling. “What?”

Jackson’s father let go of him and took a step back so that he could look at Isaac too.

“What?” Isaac asked, voice soft and brow furrowed with confusion.

“You’re fraternal twins.”

“WHAT?!” Jackson and Isaac asked in unison as Isaac jumped to his feet too.

“Be careful, sweetie, your leg,” Jackson’s mother said to Isaac as she too stood and gestured to his leg brace.

Isaac ignored her and addressed Jackson’s father instead. “W-we can’t be twins. That’s impossible.”

“What are you talking about?” Jackson demanded, folding his arms across his chest. This had to be some kind of twisted joke, or something his father had said just to shut Jackson up.

“Everyone sit down,” Jackson’s father said as he reclaimed his own seat.

Jackson was tempted to use the opportunity to run out of the room, but by this point his anger had mostly been replaced with confusion and disbelief. He sat numbly back on the couch, joined a moment later by his mother and Isaac.

“We owe you both an apology,” Jackson’s father said, taking a deep breath. He actually looked rattled, his normally unflappable composure shaken, and in that moment Jackson knew with a world-shattering certainty that it was true. Isaac Lahey was his brother.

“Please don’t be angry,” Jackson’s mother pleaded, squeezing Jackson’s knee and Isaac’s arm. “We had no choice. Mr. Lahey wouldn’t have let us adopt Jackson if we hadn’t agreed to keep it a secret from you boys.”

“You said my biological parents died in a car crash before I was born, that my mother was already dead when the doctors operated.” Jackson looked between his parents in disbelief. “Why would you make up something so horrible?”

“That-that is what happened to your mother, honey.”

“But my father...” Jackson trailed off. Apparently his biological father was alive and well, awaiting trial for beating his fucking secret twin brother.

“I thought my mother abandoned us when I was a baby,” Isaac said, voice detached.

“I don’t know why that’s the story he went with,” Jackson’s father answered.

“How could Cam not tell me?!” Isaac asked, anger flaring in his voice for the first time that evening.

“I don’t know if he knew, sweetie. I got the impression he didn’t,” Jackson’s mother answered, reaching for him again. This time Isaac did pull away.

 _Cam. Camden Lahey._ It felt like Jackson’s head was going to explode. Despite what he’d been told, he had a biological parent who was still alive, but he also had _two_ biological brothers, one of whom was dead. What the fuck was Jackson supposed to do with that?

“How could he not know?!” Isaac was shouting now, as loud as Jackson had ever heard him. “He was five years older than me. How could he have not noticed twins around the house?”

“We took Jackson directly home from the hospital,” Jackson’s father said. He cleared his throat and waited for Isaac to look at him. “We wanted to adopt you both but–”

“But I was the only one he didn’t want,” Jackson finished, filling in the pieces. Why did it hurt that that asshole hadn’t wanted him too?...but why _hadn’t_ that asshole wanted him? Had Jackson been defective even as a baby?

Jackson’s father hesitated before he answered, tone modulated and neutral. “He said he couldn’t handle twin babies and a preschooler running around.”

“Me and Jackson don’t have the same birthday,” Isaac said, as though grasping at straws. That shouldn’t have hurt either, but it did. 

“Well you do but...” Jackson’s father turned and gave Jackson an apologetic look. “Jackson your birthday isn’t really June fifteenth. It’s June thirteenth like Isaac’s.”

“You lied about my friggin birthday too?” Jackson’s anger boiled. It felt like he didn’t know anything about his own damn life.

“It would have been suspicious if you had the same birthday,” Jackson’s mother said, eyes pleading with him to understand. “That’s why we’ve always celebrated your whole birthday week and given you some of your presents early.” 

“Oh really?” Jackson stood up and glared down at her. “I thought that was because you loved me. Guess I know better now.”

“Jackson.” His father grabbed his arm but Jackson yanked it away and gave him the most hateful look he could manage.

“My whole life is a fucking lie!”

Jackson stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you guys think? Was it a surprise or something you saw coming? I tried to do some foreshadowing without laying it on too thick because I didn't want it to be completely obvious, but I hope it didn't come totally out of left field in a bad way either. 
> 
> Feedback, opinions, and constructive criticism are always very welcome and very appreciated.


	6. The Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot more fluff and humor. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Jackson didn’t sleep at home the night he learned the truth about Isaac and his biological family. He couldn’t bear to be under the same roof as the people who had spent his entire life lying to him, and he certainly couldn’t handle the concept that his fucking _brother_ was in the room across the hall. He wasn’t sure how to even begin to process all the news he had received that night. 

That was why going to Danny’s house had been almost automatic. Jackson didn’t like to admit it, but he wasn’t that great at figuring out his feelings. Danny on the other hand...well Danny actually was kind of great at figuring out Jackson’s feelings, and while that often annoyed Jackson, especially when he’d have rather not confronted what he was feeling at all, it was something he couldn’t ignore.

And so Jackson found himself knocking on Danny’s front door not quite an hour after his entire world had been turned upside down. He hadn’t texted Danny to let him know he was coming, just muttered to Vicky where he was going so that his stupid, lying adoptive parents wouldn’t freak out and call the cops to look for him, then numbly drove straight to Danny’s house. 

“I’m staying with you tonight,” Jackson said as soon as Danny, and thankfully not either of his parents, opened the door. 

Danny shrugged and laughed, obviously in a good mood, just like Jackson had been a couple of hours earlier when they had parted after dinner. “Okay, sure.”

Jackson cursed as he heard the sound of laughter coming from the living room and recognized the muffled voices that accompanied it: Ethan and Aiden. Jackson’s three teammates must have still been hanging out after practice.

“Get rid of them,” Jackson said as Danny relocked the door behind Jackson.

“What?”

“The twins.” Jackson winced. _Twins_ wasn’t a word he liked at the moment. “Get rid of them. I need–” 

“Jackson! Hey man.” Aiden walked into the entryway and bumped Jackson’s shoulder with his fist. 

“Oh hey dude, I didn’t know you were coming over,” Ethan said as he appeared behind his brother. “You here to watch the movie?”

“Go on,” Danny said, nudging Jackson toward the living room and apparently disregarding his request to get rid of the twins. “We’re watching _The Winter Soldier._ ”

Jackson didn’t have the energy to argue, so he followed the twins into the living room as Danny disappeared to the kitchen. 

“We’re not restarting,” Aiden remarked with a smirk at Jackson as he collapsed on the end of the couch, and Jackson took a seat in the nearby recliner.

“We can restart if you want,” Ethan countered, sinking down next to his brother and swatting his shoulder. Aiden retaliated with a shove and a moment later the twins were laughing and wrestling on the couch. 

“Here Jacks,” Danny said a little while later as he handed Jackson a glass of soda and took his place on the couch on the other side of Ethan. They were still tussling and Danny gave them a fond look as he patted Ethan’s leg. “If you guys hit me, I’m gonna have to kick both your asses.”

The twins just giggled and kept playfighting, vying with each other for the upper hand. They weren’t usually so silly, but Jackson had seen them act like this enough to know they wouldn’t stop until one of them successfully pinned the other and made him give up.

It was annoying. They were obviously having a lot of fun, and it bothered Jackson that theoretically he could have had a relationship like that with someone – with Isaac of all people – but now he never would because it was too late. It wasn’t Jackson’s fault; it wasn’t even Isaac’s fault. It was Jackson’s asshole parents and Isaac’s evil father who were to blame.

“Dude, are you mad at us?” Aiden asked, catching Jackson’s eye and pausing his efforts to pin Ethan against the back cushion of the couch.

Ethan turned his head and looked at Jackson too. A frown slowly replaced the wide grin that had been on his face. “Sorry, man, we’ll stop horsing around and restart the movie.”

Jackson cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink. He hadn’t realized how hard he was glaring at them, but now that they had pointed it out, he felt the hostile scowl etched across his face.

Danny gave Jackson a thoughtful look, and Jackson both hated and savored the concern it conveyed. “Actually, guys, can we finish the movie next time? Jackson and I need to go over some plays for the game Friday.”

“Oh, well we’ll go over them with you,” Aiden answered.

Ethan rolled his eyes and nudged his brother’s arm. He gave Aiden a meaningful look, and understanding flashed across Aiden’s face, leaving Jackson to once again wonder if twin telepathy was real. Was he supposed to be able to communicate with Isaac that way? Because that was never going to happen. They couldn’t even interpret each other’s tones on the rare occasions they texted.

“It’s probably like a goalie/captain strategy plan, huh?” Aiden asked.

“Right, exactly,” Danny answered. 

Jackson grunted in irritation. This was stupid. Why couldn’t he just tell them to get out so he could talk to Danny privately? They were his friends. If he couldn’t tell his friends to fuck off, what was the point?

“Okay, I’ll text you tonight,” Ethan said to Danny. He turned and kissed him. Jackson and Aiden looked away as Danny whimpered and leaned back, and Ethan slid on top of him, signaling their kiss wasn’t going to be a quick peck on the lips. 

“This isn’t inappropriate at all,” Jackson muttered to Aiden.

Aiden laughed and grabbed the back of Ethan’s shirt, yanking him off Danny. 

“Cockblock!” Ethan growled playfully at his brother before grinning at Danny and squeezing his knee as he got up.

“Take it easy, Jackson,” Aiden said, dropping a hand on Jackson’s shoulder as he stepped past his chair. Ethan bumped Jackson’s shoulder too, and Danny said that he’d be right back as he followed the twins out to say goodbye. 

Danny was back a little while later and reclaiming his spot on the end of the couch. He patted the space in front of him and gave Jackson a pointed look. “So you wanna tell me what’s wrong.”

“No,” Jackson muttered, getting out of his chair and taking his place on the couch next to Danny. It would be easier if he didn’t have to talk as loud.

“Do it anyway,” Danny ordered, a fond look on his face.

“It’s my parents and” –Jackson set his jaw and made sure he had Danny attention before he continued. He wasn’t going to say this twice– “my brother.”

Danny’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head. “You don’t have a brother.”

Jackson sighed. “That’s what I thought too.”

“Oh shit! Are your parents adopting Isaac?”

Jackson pursed his lips and nodded. “But it’s not just that.”

“Then what?”

“I found out who my biological family is.”

Danny’s eyes widened and his handed landed on Jackson’s arm. “Who?”

Jackson didn’t answer, just took a deep breath and gave Danny a sad look. 

“Who?” Danny whispered, rubbing Jackson’s arm.

Jackson frowned, confused by the tightness in his chest and the sting behind his eyes. He grumbled and gave in to his urge to pull Danny into a hug. It eased the ache a little when Danny held him tight, and his thumb traced along the line of Jackson’s spine. Danny hummed, the sound meaningless yet somehow soothing, and Jackson felt like he could get the words out.

“The Laheys. Me and Isaac are twins.”

* * *

Isaac stayed up until the early hours of the morning talking to the Whittemores. After Jackson had run out, Mrs. Whittemore had started to go after him, but Mr. Whittemore had stopped her, telling her to give him time. Mrs. Whittemore hadn’t seemed pleased with that suggestion, but then her eyes landed on Isaac and a tight smiled pulled across her lips as she re-joined him on the sofa. A moment later, Mr. Whittemore got up from his chair and took a seat on Isaac’s other side.

Isaac swallowed and stared at the floor between his feet. He had never liked being the center of attention and he was still reeling from everything he had been told. He wanted them to leave him alone, but he also felt like maybe they shouldn’t, like it might hurt less if they stayed with him.

“Isaac, words can’t express how sorry we are about what happened to you,” Mr. Whittemore said, rubbing the back of Isaac’s neck and squeezing his shoulder.

Isaac flinched as Mrs. Whittemore let out a sob and then dissolved into tears, hugging him from the other side.

“It’s not your fault,” Isaac said softly as he wrapped an arm around Mrs. Whittemore and leaned into Mr. Whittemore. 

“Not directly, but...it was.” Mr. Whittemore gave Isaac a long look, face drawn with sorrow. “I should have recognized the signs.”

“No, I should have!” Mrs. Whittemore wailed, clutching Isaac’s shirt.

Isaac coughed, his body starting to tremble and his own fragile composure slipping. “You barely knew me.”

Isaac couldn’t help the thoughts that popped into his mind. What if they hadn’t barely known him? What if they had adopted him instead of Jackson? Did it make Isaac an asshole for wishing they had? For wishing away his childhood and the good times he’d had with Camden and his dad? And by extension was he basically wishing Jackson had gone through what he had? Because he really wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even Jackson – hell not even Theo.

Mr. Whittemore squeezed Isaac’s shoulder, and Isaac let himself slump against the man's chest. “I heard it happening that night from my study. So if I had been home more...If I had heard it years ago...”

Mrs. Whittemore sniffled and sat up. She gave Isaac a look that broke his heart as she took his hand. “If I hadn’t been drunk all the time maybe I would have heard something.”

Isaac gapped at her. It was the first time he had ever heard her acknowledge her drinking. 

A little while later Vicky appeared to tell them that Jackson had gone to Danny’s house. Jackson’s parents looked almost relieved by the news. Isaac thought it over and decided that he was pleased too. He didn’t want to face Jackson that night, and he also liked Danny and found himself glad that Jackson wasn’t alone, that he had a best friend he could turn to. It was a nice change in thought after Isaac had just mentally condemned Jackson to a life of abuse a few minutes earlier.

That night Isaac told the Whittemores everything, details he hadn’t shared before, feelings he had never acknowledged. He talked to them about Camden and their dad. He even talked to them about school and the way he had been bullied. The only thing he didn’t mention was Jackson’s role in it, because that would have hurt them, and Isaac didn’t want that. It also would have felt like tattling and Isaac wasn’t that kind of person.

The Whittemores talked too. They told Isaac how hard it had been watching him grow up when they felt like he should have been part of their family, how painful it had been keeping the secret from Jackson and Isaac, and how much they regretted not figuring out a way to be in Isaac’s life sooner.

By the time Isaac went to bed, he felt a sense of belonging he had never felt before in the Whittemore home. It felt like he had been meant to live here all along, like the Whittemores weren’t just nice people who were doing him a favor, but family who wanted him, who had always wanted him.

* * *

The next morning, Jackson got up early so that he could go home and get ready for school. Danny may have been the one who was gay, but Jackson was no less meticulous about his appearance, and he wasn’t going to go to school in borrowed clothes without his regular hair product. He also didn’t have his school stuff, and just because he was having a personal crisis didn’t mean he was going to let his grades slide. He’d only be fucking himself over if he did that and hurt his chances of getting into an ivy league school.

Jackson got home and started getting ready before people were up and around. However, it took him long enough that he was no longer early by the time he descended the stairs. He gritted his teeth as he walked into the dining room to find his parents and Isaac already there. Also already present in front of Jackson’s usual place was a steaming plate of food: an omelet with sour cream and picante sauce, and hash browns with cheese melted all over them.

“Vicky, what’s this?” Jackson asked, ignoring his parents’ greetings and refusing to look at them as he addressed the maid.

“It’s your favorite breakfast, honey,” Jackson’s mother interjected.

Jackson rolled his eyes. As if he were going to eat junk like this two days before the championship game. He held the plate out to Vicky. “Take this away and bring me a protein shake, a piece of chicken breast, and an orange.”

Vicky nodded crisply and took the plate.

“I’ll have those cheesy hash browns,” Isaac said with a smile.

Jackson glanced at him, surprised he was speaking up. His plate was already picked over and judging by the scraps of cheese on the edges, this would be his second helping of cheese-covered hash browns.

_Great. Getting fat ought to really help his social standing at school._

“Thank you, ma’am,” Isaac said cheerfully as he scraped Jackson’s rejected food onto his plate with a fork and knife and passed it back to Vicky.

Jackson’s parents grinned at him like he had just saved a toddler from a burning building.

“Jackson, is there anything you’d like to discuss?” Jackson’s father asked as he stirred his coffee.

“Nope.”

“I’m sure you must have some questions for us, honey,” Jackson’s mother said.

“No.”

“Would you like us to make you an appointment with Isaac’s therapist?” Jackson’s father asked.

Jackson glared at the man. “Certainly not.”

“We were thinking about going for a group session,” the man added.

Jackson scrolled through the messages on his phone and responded in a voice thick with sarcasm. “That’s nice. You guys have fun.”

“We’d want you there as well, honey,” his mother said.

“No, thank you.”

Jackson continued shutting down his parents’ efforts to talk to him until they finally gave up and let him eat his breakfast in peace. When he was done he dropped his fork on his plate with a clink and looked up at Isaac. “Are you ready for school?”

“Yeah.” Isaac pushed out his chair and got up. 

Jackson’s parents got up too. His father gave Isaac a hug and his mother hugged him and kissed his cheek. Jackson put up his hands and backed away as they moved to repeat the process with him.

“Don’t,” Jackson warned, tone losing any pretense of civility. There was no way in hell he was going to let them act like everything was okay.

“We love you, honey,” Jackson’s mother said, a tight-lipped smile on her face.

Jackson didn’t acknowledge the statement, just turned and walked out of the room.

“Ready for your algebra test?” Jackson asked a few minutes later as he and Isaac got into his car. 

“I didn’t do the homework last night,” Isaac answered, voice soft and eyes averted.

Jackson forced a laugh. “Gee, did something come up?”

“Yeah.” Isaac buckled his seatbelt, still not looking at Jackson.

Jackson turned on the car and switched off the radio. “Come meet me at lunch, and I’ll help you do the homework and cram for the test.”

Isaac’s head snapped up. “We can’t do that. People will see us.”

Jackson raised his hands and trembled them in mock fear as he pulled out onto the road. “Oh no, people will see us doing schoolwork at school.”

“I meant they’d see us. Together.”

Jackson shrugged, trying to pretend he didn’t care. He did, but he’d go through with it and deal with the consequences.

“I’ll just review by myself. I think I’ll be fine. I’m starting to get it now.”

Jackson cleared his throat and tried not to choke on his next words. “Yeah, you’re making good progress.”

“Did you just...give me a compliment?”

Jackson kept his eyes on the road as he answered. “Yeah well it’s true. You’re improving very fast.”

“What?”

“I think you’ll be a good student soon. You’re...smart.”

“WHAT?!”

“Isaac, chill.” Jackson gave him a smirk. “I mean you do have me as a tutor, so of course you’re doing better.”

“Whoa, wait, what did you just call me?” Isaac’s eyes were wide, and he was looking at Jackson like he had never seen him.

“Your name?” Jackson asked, irritation slipping into his tone. 

“Yeah but...my first name?”

Jackson growled. Isaac was such an asshole. Why did he have to make this a big deal?

“Well it’s not like I’m going to keep calling you ‘Lahey’ when apparently” –Jackson cringed– “I’m a Lahey too...Besides, now you’re going to be a Whittemore like me. So, obviously last names aren’t the way to go with each other.”

Isaac looked at him in silence for a few seconds before snickering. “That is a good point.” 

“Isaac Whittemore.” Jackson pretended to retch. “Yeah, that’ll take some getting used to.”

“Are you...joking?” Isaac asked.

Jackson laughed. “No, that’s seriously going to take some getting used to.”

“Yeah, but you don’t sound...” Isaac tilted his head, still looking at Jackson like he had no idea what to think. “As angry as I expected?”

“Oh I’m fuckin’ furious at my parents,” Jackson answered, hands clenching around the steering wheel. “But...they’re the ones who lied to me, not you.”

“So you’re not going to–” Isaac looked around and raised his hand. “Hey wait, you missed the drop off spot.”

Jackson grumbled. _Fucking Isaac Lah– Whittemore. He has to make me spell everything out._

“You’re not walking to school like some loser. You’re my brother.”

* * *

Isaac almost swallowed his tongue at lunch as he sensed someone approaching and looked up to see Jackson, Danny, and one of the twins walking directly toward his empty table with their trays of food. 

“What are you doing?” Isaac whispered urgently as Jackson sank into the seat next to him, and Danny and Ethan took spots across from him.

Jackson glared at him and hit Isaac’s shoulder with his own just hard enough for it to not quite count as a nice gesture. “Having lunch.”

“How’s it going, Isaac?” Danny asked, all dimples and a friendly smile. 

“Good.” Isaac answered, nodding a little too hard and a little too fast. Damn it, why did Jackson have to put him on the spot like this?

“Isaac.” Ethan said, with a pleasant nod.

A thought occurred to Isaac as he struggled for something more original to say than just repeating Ethan’s name. He recalled that when Ethan and the others had forced him to watch that movie with them a couple weeks ago, Ethan had recommended something to him as part of his efforts to make conversation with him.

“I checked out that YouTube channel you mentioned,” Isaac said to him.

Ethan looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Huh?”

Isaac’s cheeks heated in a blush. Ethan probably didn’t remember, and why _would_ he remember a random conversation he’d had with a loser over two weeks ago? Isaac thought about dropping it, but decided it might be less embarrassing if he just prompted Ethan with a little more information.

“I saw that one video about the city in Alaska where everyone lives in the same building.” Isaac was sure Ethan would remember that. They had talked about it for several minutes.

Yet he didn’t seem to. He was looking at Isaac like he had lost his mind, and so were Jackson and Danny. Isaac awkwardly hid his face behind the apple that had come with his lunch and wished to hell everyone would just leave him alone.

Suddenly understanding flashed across Ethan’s face and he let out a sharp bark of laughter.

“Dude, wrong twin. I’m Aiden.”

Isaac gasped and choked on the bite of apple he had just taken. _Oh god,_ he was talking to the mean twin. Jackson was glaring at him and Danny and Aiden, _Aiden,_ hadn’t stopped laughing.

“I know the video you mean though,” Aiden said after he had mostly composed himself but was still sniggering. “On Thoughty2, right? Ethan loves that channel. He makes me watch a lot of ‘em.”

“Yeah,” Isaac mumbled, staring at his tray and wondering what Aiden was going to do to him. Fortunately, he seemed to be less offended than Isaac expected.

“Wait, did you think just because we were sitting next to each other, he had to be Ethan?” Danny asked, breaking into another fit of giggles. 

“Maybe,” Isaac mumbled. There was no point in denying it.

Aiden chuckled and draped an arm around Danny’s shoulders. “What do you say, man? Wanna upgrade to the better twin?”

“Can I watch?” Malia asked as she appeared from behind Isaac and walked around the table to sit next to her boyfriend. Aiden and Danny laughed but she gave Aiden an earnest look. “I’m serious. You have my permission to experiment with Danny if I can watch.”

“Well they don’t have my permission!” Ethan declared, pulling Aiden’s arm away from Danny’s shoulder and squeezing in on Danny’s other side.

“But we could both watch!” Malia insisted, giving Ethan the same serious look. “It would be really hot.”

“I don’t wanna watch my brother have sex,” Ethan answered, cringing dramatically but smiling at her and showing no signs of actually being annoyed.

“Oh.” Malia considered his response for a moment before turning to Aiden. “Don’t show Ethan that video we made.”

Isaac laughed and covered his mouth as Aiden turned a dark shade of pink. “I wasn’t going to. That’s just for us.”

“He likes to masturbate to it when I’m not around,” Malia announced matter-of-factly to the rest of the table.

“Malia, stop talking. _Now._ ” Aiden’s elbow was on the table, face in his hand.

“Don’t be ashamed.” She pulled his hand away and gave him a kiss, then looked up at the others. “I like to masturbate to it when he’s not around too. It’s just a very hot video.” She leaned past Aiden and addressed Danny. “Danny, you’re missing out. Aiden’s excellent at sex.”

Danny laughed and nodded. “Ethan’s excellent at sex too.”

“It must be a twin thing,” Malia answered with a grin and a nod.

“I didn’t need to know any of that,” Lydia remarked as she sat next to Jackson.

Jackson turned and smirked at her. “Feel free to comment on my performance.”

Lydia sighed. “Jackson likes to do it in front of a mirror so he can watch himself.”

Everyone burst into laughter including Isaac.

“For the record that’s not true.” Jackson shot everyone glares.

“It’s a little true,” Lydia stage whispered behind her hand.

“So why are we sitting at this table today?” Malia asked a moment later. “And what’s Isaac doing here? I thought no one liked him.”

A cold, sharp pain stabbed at Isaac’s gut, and the smile fell away from his face. He stood to leave but was alarmed when Jackson grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back down. 

“I like Isaac,” Lydia said with a light, easy tone.

“Me too,” Danny answered.

“So do I,” Ethan added.

“He’s got alright taste in YouTube videos,” Aiden remarked, smirking at Isaac.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were so popular,” Malia said, addressing Isaac for the first time ever. “Do you like sex videos too or just YouTube videos?”

“That’s more of a second conversation type question, babe,” Aiden told her.

Malia nodded and returned her attention to Isaac. “We can also talk about deer hunting if you’d prefer. What’s your favorite rifle?”

“Oh I just love ‘em all,” Isaac answered, glancing around the table to make sure it was a weird question and not just something he was incredibly out of the loop about.

“I’m partial to the Remington Model 8 myself,” Malia said. “It’s old-fashioned but underrated.”

“Just smile and nod,” Jackson whispered to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously this chapter was meant to be a lighter contrast to the last chapter, but alas, Isaac and Jackson aren’t out of the woods yet and there’s plenty more drama and tension coming in the next chapter.


	7. The Party

“So, how long do you have to wear that boot?” Jackson asked Isaac as they pulled out of the school parking lot. Jackson had insisted that Isaac meet him here instead of down the block like normal.

Isaac looked up, confused. Why did Jackson want to know that? It didn’t really affect him. “At least till my follow up appointment in two weeks.”

“Cool,” Jackson answered with a slight nod. “Can you take it off to sleep?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“That’s good. Must be more comfortable.”

“Yep.” _What the fuck?_

“So how was your algebra test?” Jackson asked.

Isaac breathed a sigh of relief. Talking about homework and tests was normal for them. “Good. Pretty sure I got at least a C, maybe better.”

Jackson frowned. Isaac knew a C wasn’t up to his standards, but it was good as far as Isaac was concerned, especially considering he had been outright failing the class until Jackson started tutoring him.

“We’ll work you up to an A.”

“Okay...uh, thanks.”

Jackson turned in his seat and smiled – fucking _smiled_ – at Isaac. “Sure thing.”

They fell quiet and Isaac realized that their silences had morphed yet again. When they had first started riding together, the silence had been hostile and defensive. Then it had gradually mellowed into regular, standard silence. Today, however, the silence was _tense._ Isaac could practically feel Jackson trying to think of something to say, and he felt a similar pressure. Were they supposed to start making small talk when they were in the car now? Isaac hated that notion. He didn’t like to make small talk with anyone, and Jackson certainly wasn’t an exception.

“I don’t really feel like going home and seeing my mom. You wanna go grab a bite to eat somewhere?” Jackson asked.

“What are you doing?” Isaac asked, narrowing his eyes on Jackson.

“What?”

“Why are you being...nice?” Isaac asked.

“I’m just trying to make an effort.”

“Why?”

Jackson sighed and glared at Isaac. It was a relief...until he spoke. “You’re my brother. I would like to get to know you.”

“Why?” Isaac asked.

“I just told you.” Jackson gripped the steering wheel and took a sharp turn, jostling Isaac around in the car.

“That’s not a reason,” Isaac answered, frowning and folding his arms. “You’ve been a dick to me my whole life. Now suddenly just because you found out we have some genetics in common you wanna be my friend? Fuck that.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable Lah– Isaac. You’re actually pissed that I’m being _nice_ to you?”

“I’m pissed because of _why_ you’re doing it.” Isaac shook with anger. “Nothing’s changed. You don’t wanna get to know me because you think I might be an interesting person or fun to be around.”

Jackson laughed and gave Isaac an incredulous look. “Dude, I’m trying here, but you really aren’t an interesting person or fun to be around. You’re boring, antisocial, and kind of a dick.”

“Yeah, well you’re an entitled, arrogant asshole who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but yourself!”

Jackson pulled into the driveway and slammed on the brakes. “Get out of my car!”

“Gladly!” Isaac jumped out of the vehicle and slamming the door.

* * *

“I hate him,” Jackson said to Danny as he lay on his bed talking on the phone.

“But you guys are doing better. I think he actually had fun with us today at lunch,” Danny answered.

“I know. I tried, but it didn’t work,” Jackson said. “I’m just going to pretend I never found out and let things go back to the way they were.”

Danny sighed into the phone before answering. “Seriously? You’ve only been _trying_ for all of ten hours and you’ve had, what, three conversations with him during that time?”

“Yeah, and he was horrible every time,” Jackson answered.

“Dude, you didn’t even like Aiden until you had known him for almost a year. Now he’s one of our best friends.”

Jackson huffed. “What’s your point? I’ve known Isaac my whole life, and I still don’t like him.”

“Yeah, but you’ve only not been a dick to him for one frickin day.”

Jackson grumbled. “So you think I should give it a second day?”

Danny laughed. “No, I think you should give it at least a few weeks before you even expect any improvement.”

“Seriously?! I have to be nice to him for _weeks?!_ ”

“I’m afraid so.” Danny laughed again but then grew serious. “Look, Jacks, I know what happened to you sucks and was completely unfair. That’s why I’m not on you to make up with your parents right away. Of course you’re angry with them, and they deserve it, at least for now, but you’ve wanted to know your biological family since you first found out you were adopted. Don’t throw this chance away just because it’s hard. It’s not like you to be such a quitter.”

“A quitter?! I’m not a quitter!” Jackson knew full well that Danny was baiting him and...well he kind of appreciated it.

“Okay, then think of your relationship with Isaac like lacrosse. You gotta keep practicing or you’re going to screw up and lose when it’s game time.”

 _Game time._ Jackson nodded. That made sense. He knew he could win any game if he had a strategy and enough time to practice.

“Thanks man,” Jackson said quietly.

“You got this, Jackson,” Danny answered.

* * *

“–and I don’t wanna go to my dad’s trial or deal with Jackson. I just wanna be left alone.” Isaac folded his hands in his lap and looked up to see Dr. Johnson’s reaction as he finished filling her in on the major developments in his life. 

It was Friday morning and the Whittemores had pulled him out of school for an ‘emergency session’ with Dr. Johnson because they couldn’t get him an appointment over the weekend and felt that waiting until his regular appointment next week was too long. Isaac agreed. He was starting to like his sessions with Dr. Johnson. It was nice having someone objective and non-judgmental to talk to about his life, and with the triple bombshells of his father’s trial being next week, the revelation that Jackson was his twin brother, and the fact that the Whittemores wanted to adopt him, he needed a session now more than ever to work through his feelings. The emergency session hadn’t been his idea, but he had readily gone along with it when the Whittemores had suggested it.

Dr. Johnson nodded and was silent for a few moments before speaking. 

“What do you feel when you think about your dad’s trial?” Dr. Johnson asked.

Isaac shrugged. “I dunno, just that I don’t wanna go to it, and I certainly don't want to be involved in it.”

“But what if he’s acquitted?” 

Isaac did a double take and glared at her. That was impossible. “He can’t be acquitted. He’s guilty.”

Dr. Johnson set aside the pen and pad she used for notes and leaned forward in her chair. “I’ve testified in numerous court cases during my career.”

Isaac nodded, recalling that that was how Mr. Whittemore had met her in the first place.

“The legal system isn’t perfect. It can’t be, and the burden of proof has to rest on proving guilt not innocence. That means that sometimes guilty people aren’t convicted.” She took a breath and made eye contact with Isaac. “But it does help when victims testify.”

“Are you saying if I don’t testify and he gets off it’s _my_ fault?” Isaac folded his arms across his chest, fists clenched at his sides.

“No, of course not,” Dr. Johnson answered in a soothing tone. “I’m just saying there is something you can do to improve the odds that justice will be served, and you owe it to yourself to do it. All that aside, I’m afraid you don’t really have a choice since you’ve been subpoenaed. But it might be helpful to think about it as something you’re doing for yourself rather than something you’re being forced to do.”

“But...” Isaac stared at the wall behind her chair as he answered. “But if I mess up and he gets away with it, that _will_ be my fault...and then if they send me back to live with him...he’ll get even.” Isaac trembled and fought a cold wave of nausea. “And I’ll...I’ll lose the Whittemores. I don’t want that. I want to stay with them. I want them to adopt me like they said.”

“Then you need to say that on the stand, Isaac.”

Isaac shook his head. “I can’t say any of that with him looking at me.” He hung his head and stared at the plush carpet between his feet. “If Dad’s looking at me, I think...I think I’ll lie for him. I don’t want to, but I think I will.”

“It’s okay to feel that way.”

He looked up, surprised by her response. “It is?”

She nodded. “You spent years lying to protect him. That’s a tough habit to break, but you do need to break it. You need to be honest about what happened and demand that he be held accountable.”

“But I can’t,” Isaac whispered, sure he would throw up or pass out just talking about it.

“Talk to your family, Isaac. They’ll help you through this if you let them.”

Isaac closed his eyes and nodded. 

“That includes Jackson.”

His eyes snapped open and he gaped at her.

“He hates me!”

“Do you really believe that?” Dr. Johnson inquired, brow raised. “Because it doesn’t sound like that to me.”

“Fine.” Isaac folded his arms and pursed his lips. “He doesn’t hate me anymore, but for the wrong reasons.”

“Why don’t you ask him and your parents to come with you for a group session? I’d like to meet him, and I think it would be good for the four of you to sit in a neutral environment and discuss your issues.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Isaac’s mouth and he felt a wave of self consciousness at the way she had referred to the Whittemores as his parents. It was a nice thought, but he knew it was premature and he couldn’t afford to get his hopes up any higher than they already were. “ _Jackson’s_ parents already asked him about a group session, and he said no.”

“Did you ask him?”

Isaac frowned and shook his head. She gave him a meaningful look but then let the subject drop. 

“So, are you looking forward to that party you said Jackson is having after the game tonight?”

Isaac laughed. “Oh, I’m not going to that.”

* * *

Jackson scanned the visitors section of the Riverdale bleachers as he waited with his team for the championship game to start. His chest clenched in disappointment as he spotted his mother and Isaac sitting by themselves in one of the front rows.

“I guess something must have come up,” Aiden said with too much kindness in his voice as he clapped a hand on Jackson’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Shut up,” Jackson answered, glaring at his teammate and channeling his disappointment into anger. It would be more useful for the game.

“At least your brother’s here,” Aiden added after glancing around to make sure no one else was listening.

“Seriously. Shut the fuck up!”

Thursday night after his conversation with Danny, Lydia had come over and confronted Jackson about why he had wanted to sit with Isaac at lunch and why he was behaving differently toward him in general. Jackson had admitted the truth to her because it was pointless to argue with her when they both knew she would eventually get him to tell her regardless. 

This morning at school, Aiden and Ethan had likewise wanted answers, and Jackson figured he might as well tell them too since he was hoping they might have better insight into the situation than Danny and Lydia. They didn’t. All their advice had boiled down to was, ‘Give it time’ and ‘It’ll be okay because there’s no other bond like the one between twins.’ 

_Gee, thanks for those words of wisdom, dumbasses._

The worst part was that now Aiden was being weird, like he thought Jackson wanted his support or some shit. It was obnoxious, especially since Jackson _hadn’t_ confided in Aiden that he wanted his dad to come to the game. That meant Aiden was paying attention to his feelings just for the hell of it, and seriously Danny was the only one of his friends who was allowed to do that. Jackson was planning to pick a fight with Aiden if he didn’t knock it off soon.

Jackson refused to smile as he caught sight of Lydia and Malia walking down the row Isaac and Jackson’s mom were sitting on. Isaac was visibly startled as Lydia gave him a quick hug, greeted Jackson’s mom, then sat down next to him.

A few moments later Aiden laughed and elbowed Jackson in the ribs. “Dude, your mom’s awesome.”

Jackson glanced back to see his mom reaching past Isaac and Lydia and handing Malia a silver flask. Malia took a swig and passed it back. Isaac looked as mortified as Jackson felt, and when their eyes met they exchanged a shared cringe. 

“See, twins,” Aiden whispered with another light jab to Jackson’s ribs. “You guys are gonna be fine.” 

Aiden was spared Jackson’s wrath as Coach blew his whistle, announcing it was time for the team to take their positions for the start of the game.

Jackson took a breath and shook his head, clearing it of absentee fathers, alcoholic mothers, antisocial brothers, obnoxious friends, and nosy girlfriends. They could all wait. Jackson had a lacrosse championship to win.

* * *

Isaac tensed at the raucous laughter coming from Jackson’s open doorway. His plan had been to lock himself in his room and not come out until Jackson’s party was over, but he had foolishly decided to fix himself a plate of snacks first. The party wasn’t supposed to start for another half hour, but apparently Jackson’s inner clique had arrived early. 

_Stay calm. Just go to your room. They’ll ignore you._

“Hey Jackson, are you letting that loser-freak come to the party?” Theo Raeken asked in a voice just below a shout. 

Isaac kept his head down and hurried to his room, fumbling with his snacks and drink as he opened the door. He could feel Theo’s eyes boring into the back of his neck.

“Oh please tell me we don’t have to put up with him. He’s such a weird creep,” Tracy Stewart, Theo’s girlfriend, said in an equally loud voice.

“Fucking mind your own business,” Jackson’s voice barked at them. Isaac tried not to feel good about the way Jackson was standing up for him. It probably didn’t have anything to do with him. Jackson was just embarrassed by Isaac and lashing out.

Isaac entered his room as a chorus of other voices erupted from Jackson’s room, and he realized Lydia, Danny, and the twins were also arguing with Tracy and Theo. Great, now he was responsible for creating conflict in Jackson’s friend group. That was bound to end well.

Isaac set his food on his desk and turned to shut his door, but before he could Danny and Ethan appeared in the doorway.

“Sorry about all that, man. Can we come in?” Danny asked.

Theo started to say something else but Ethan cut him off with a “Fuck you!” and a raised middle finger.

Isaac didn’t think he actually had the option of saying no to Danny’s request, so he stepped aside and let them enter his room, shutting the door behind them.

“I am so fucking sick of that asshole,” Ethan said as he bumped Isaac’s shoulder before stepping past him and taking a seat on Isaac’s bed.

_Make yourself at home._

“Yeah, I think he’s literally a sociopath. Just ignore him, Isaac.” Danny patted Isaac’s arm and joined his boyfriend on the bed.

Isaac sank into his desk chair and offered them snacks from his plate just for the sake of having something to say.

Ethan grinned and snagged a couple of Oreos while Danny took a cube of cheese.

Isaac expected the conversation to be awkward, but it wasn’t. Danny and Ethan were both in high spirits coming off their championship victory and Isaac found that all he had to do to keep up his end of the conversation was make occasional comments about the game or compliment their performances and the team in general, which never failed to have them beaming at him. 

“Just so we’re clear, Jackson told us you guys are brothers,” Ethan said after the three had finished reliving the highlights of the game. 

“Oh.” Isaac’s eyes widened. He was borderline shocked that Jackson would want anyone to know.

“He’s uh” –Danny paused and seemed to choose his next words carefully– “excited about it.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Isaac couldn’t help the sarcastic smirk on his face.

“He is,” Danny insisted with a decisive nod. “He’s always wanted to get to know his biological family. He really wants you guys to get along.”

“It’s true,” Ethan added, looping his arm around Danny’s waist. “He even asked me and Aiden for twin advice.”

“ _Seriously?_ ” Isaac couldn’t imagine how that conversation had gone. 

“Yeah, but obviously our situation is pretty different,” Ethan answered.

_You mean because you and Aiden can actually stand to be in the same room with each other?_

As if to challenge Isaac’s assessment there was a knock on his bedroom door, and before he could answer it or say anything, Jackson walked in.

“The party’s starting. Lydia’s already downstairs greeting people.”

Danny and Ethan stood to leave, and Isaac found himself oddly disappointed. He had been legitimately enjoying their company and along with Lydia they were starting to feel like his first real friends. 

Jackson cleared his throat and gave Isaac a pointed look when he didn’t get up. “The party’s starting.”

“Yeah, come on, man,” Danny said, tugging Isaac’s arm.

“I’m fine in here,” Isaac answered, resisting Danny’s attempts to pull him to his feet.

“Stop being an antisocial loser and get your ass downstairs,” Jackson ordered with a hot glare at Isaac.

“Dude!” Danny let go of Isaac’s arm and swatted Jackson’s. Ethan glared at him too.

“What? This is how I talk to people. He needs to get used to it.”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m used to it,” Isaac answered, lacing his tone with sarcasm.

“Good. Now come on.” Jackson grabbed his arm and yanked much harder than Danny had, pulling Isaac to his feet. Isaac was about to protest but Jackson gave him a half-smile and added a quiet, “Please.”

Isaac shrugged and dropped his eyes, signaling his compliance. He would quietly sneak back to his room as soon as they ditched him.

An hour and a half later and he still hadn’t had that opportunity. Jackson had separated from Isaac and the others almost immediately to make the rounds at his party – although he had wandered back a few times, and Isaac got the distinct impression Jackson was keeping tabs on him – but Danny and Ethan had stayed close and made it a point to include Isaac in their conversations with other people. Right now they were guiding Isaac through the thick crowd, Ethan in front of him and Danny behind him, each holding his hand, but despite their semi-comforting presence, Isaac was on the verge of a claustrophobic attack. 

“You want a drink?” Ethan asked, raising his voice over the music and loud party-guests as the trio reached their destination, which turned out to be the kitchen.

Isaac surveyed the rows of Red Solo Cups containing unidentified cocktails. What happened to Mr. Whittemore’s pronouncement that there was to be no alcohol at the party? 

“It’s okay if you get drunk,” Danny said, squeezing the back of Isaac’s neck with one hand as he accepted a drink from Ethan with the other. “We gotcha, man.”

Isaac shook his head and shrank away from the plastic cup Ethan offered him, leaning further into Danny’s hand in the process.

“My dad’s an alcoholic.”

A look of horror crossed Ethan’s face, and he returned both the drink he was offering Isaac along with his own to the counter. Danny reached forward and set his beside theirs.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that’s why he...” Ethan trailed off.

“Jackson told you?” Isaac wished the floor would open and swallow him. Was that why they were being nice to him? Because they pitied the abuse victim?

“He told us before he knew you guys were brothers,” Danny whispered near Isaac’s ear. “And we won’t tell anyone.”

“Let’s go outside,” Ethan suggested, too lighthearted for it to be genuine. “Aiden texted me. He and Malia are getting in the hot tub. Lydia and Jackson are there too.”

“You go ahead. I’m going back to my room,” Isaac said, pulling away from Danny and taking a step away.

“Isaac–”

“Please,” he answered, cutting Danny off with raised hands. “I had fun, really. I’m just tired.”

Ethan and Danny frowned and exchanged looks but nodded. As Isaac turned to leave, Danny grabbed him and pulled him in for a hug. “We had fun too. Thanks for hanging out with us. We’ll let Jackson know where you went.”

Ethan wrapped his arms around Isaac as soon as Danny let him go. He squeezed him tight and leaned his chin against Isaac’s shoulder.

“Gimme your phone,” Ethan said as they ended the embrace.

Isaac pulled the device out of his pocket, unlocked it, and passed it to Ethan. Ethan programmed his number in, called himself, and passed it back to Isaac.

“I’ll text you Danny’s number,” Ethan said, entering Isaac’s info in his contacts, “and Aiden’s and Lydia’s too.”

“Okay, thanks,” Isaac replied, meaning it. He nodded at the couple one more time before turning and walking away.

He weaved his way through the noisy crowd, keeping his head down and doing his best to go unnoticed. He stomach sank as he re-entered the living room and realized there were at least fifty people between him and the stairs. Before he had gotten even halfway across the room, Liam stepped into his path with a determined look on his face.

A chill ran up Isaac’s spine and he tried to back away but immediately bumped into someone as the path behind him closed.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Liam’s hand clamped around Isaac’s wrist, and he wobbled on his feet. In his other hand, Liam held a Red Solo Cup, and Isaac was certain Liam was at least on his way to being drunk if he wasn’t there yet. “We need to talk.”

Isaac resisted the urge to yank his arm away. He wouldn’t get far, and he couldn’t risk pissing Liam off. He took a nervous breath and looked around, praying he would see Ethan and Danny, or maybe Lydia. Hell, he’d even have settled for Jackson or Aiden and Malia. Unfortunately based on what Ethan had said, they were all out on the deck in the hot tub. 

“Come on.” Liam’s grip tightened and he stepped past Isaac, yanking him through the crowd and down the hallway to the entertainment room. 

Isaac’s fear was somewhat supplanted by irritation. Not only had Liam accosted him in his own house but now he was dragging him around like he owned the place. Isaac had only lived here a couple months, but he had much more right to be here than Liam. 

“Hey guys, can you give us a minute?” Liam said to the group of semi-drunk teenagers that already occupied the entertainment room, most of whom Isaac didn’t recognize and none of whom he knew by name. 

To Isaac’s surprise not only did the group go along with Liam’s request without complaint, but they also congratulated him on the game and made a fuss over him. Apparently being a starting player on the newly crowned state-champion lacrosse team conferred minor celebrity status to Liam. Isaac hoped Liam’s victory had put him in a good mood.

“What’s up?” Isaac asked, trying to sound calm and meet Liam’s eyes but failing. He could hear the anxiety in his own voice and only managed to look Liam in the chin.

“I owe you an apology.” Liam sounded more sober and serious than he had since they had crossed paths.

“What?” This time Isaac’s eyes did snap up to Liam's, due entirely to surprise.

“I don’t know if you remember but...” Liam frowned and now he was the one dropping his eyes from Isaac’s. “I’m sure you do. I lost my temper and attacked you in the cafeteria awhile back. I’m sorry.”

“R-really?” Isaac asked. _Shit._ He should have just accepted Liam’s apology and left.

“Yeah.” Liam looked up and gave Isaac a sincere nod. “Look, I have this, um, condition. It’s called Intermittent Explosive Disorder. Basically it’s just a diagnosable anger problem. I fly off the handle sometimes and it’s hard for me to control myself. I’m getting help for it, and I’m serious about getting better, but I just wanted you to know I regret what I did to you, and it’s not gonna happen again.”

“Wow,” Isaac mumbled under his breath. He had no idea Liam had a medical excuse for being an asshole. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Thank you. I, uh, accept your apology.”

“Thanks man!” Liam actually grinned and slapped his shoulder in a friendly way. “I seriously do hate being a dick to people. Believe it or not, I felt like shit about what I did as soon as I calmed down.” Liam frowned again and looked embarrassed. “I know I should have apologized sooner, it’s just...” Liam chugged half his drink. “Well liquid courage, you know?”

Isaac smiled nervously and was about to make his excuses and leave, when Liam stepped closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Come have a drink with me,” Liam said, voice casual again and borderline slurred now that he was relaxed. Isaac wondered if he would even remember apologizing in the morning.

“I don’t drink,” Isaac answered, keeping his posture rigid but not pushing Liam away. Despite what Liam had said, Isaac knew better than to provoke a hot-tempered drunk.

“That’s okay, we’ll getcha an OJ or something.” Liam drained the rest of his drink and chuckled as he dragged Isaac out of the room. “It’ll be like a screwdriver but without the screw.”

The ‘driver’ part of that statement put Isaac on edge as he let Liam take him back up the hallway. “Are you sleeping here tonight?”

Liam giggled and gave Isaac a lopsided smile. “Are you hitting on me?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“‘Cause I’m flattered and all, but I’m straight.”

“I wasn’t hitting on you.”

“Then why were you asking where I’m sleeping?”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t drink and drive.”

“Aww, dude!” Liam stopped as they entered the kitchen and pulled Isaac in for a hug. “You’re a nice person.”

Isaac scoffed and awkwardly patted Liam’s back. “Tell that to Jackson.”

Liam let go and shrugged. “Okay, I will next time I see him.”

Liam grabbed a drink off the counter and then made a big production about hunting down some unspiked orange juice for Isaac, even though Isaac tried to convince him he was fine with water or nothing at all. By the time Isaac had his orange juice, Liam was on a new drink.

“To forgiveness and being a better person!” Liam said, bumping the rims of their plastic glasses together as he clung to Isaac’s back with his other arm. 

Isaac nodded and smiled at him, letting Liam lean into him and helping to support his weight. Liam seemed a lot less threatening now. Isaac doubted Liam could hurt him if he tried in his current state.

“Hey, have you guys met my friend Isaac?” Liam shouted as a group of girls walked into the kitchen. He stumbled over to them, dragging Isaac with him.

Twenty minutes and another drink later and Isaac was the only thing keeping Liam standing. Isaac pried the cocktail out of Liam’s fingers and replaced it with a bottle of water from the fridge, telling Liam it was magic alcohol water so he would drink it. 

“Did you come with anyone tonight?” Isaac asked, fingers around Liam’s hand so he wouldn’t spill his water.

Liam gasped and then let out a sharp burst of laughter. “Dude, thaza really personal question.”

“What?”

Liam shook his head and took a messy sip of water before answering. “I haven’t come since Monday, ‘causa tonigh’s game. It’s ‘posed ta help if you’re frustrated.”

Isaac’s cheeks heated in a blush as he realized what Liam was talking about.

“That’s not what I–”

“Ya gotta stop hittin’ on me when imma drunk...n horny.”

“No, I wasn’t–”

“I’m straigh but” –Liam shrugged and smiled playfully at Isaac– “I guess we can mess ‘round a lil. Take me ya room.”

“No, Liam, I wanted to know if I should tell someone.”

Liam’s jaw dropped and his mouth formed a giant oh-shape. “You should neva kiss n tell. Be a gizzleman, dude.”

Isaac sighed and gave up trying to figure out if he should let someone know about Liam’s condition. If he was riding with someone or they were riding with him, they were just out of luck. He tugged the half-empty water bottle out of Liam’s fingers as Liam tilted it too far sideways and spilled.

“We goin’ upstairs?” Liam asked, limp against Isaac’s body as Isaac hauled them back to the living room.

Isaac considered his options and shook his head. “I don’t think we’ll make it.”

“Can’t wait for all this, huh?” Liam banged his head against Isaac’s as he tried to whisper in his ear. “I workout.”

“Come on, let’s get you to the parlor. There’s a comfy couch you can sleep on.” Isaac was relieved that most of the crowd parted for them as they saw Liam’s condition.

“Sleep!” Liam tried to clap his hands, choking Isaac’s neck in the process. “Imma sleepy n didn even realize.”

“You can go to sleep in a minute, but you gotta drink your water first, okay?”

“Is gone.” Liam opened and closed his empty hand, as if expecting the bottle to reappear.

Isaac chuckled and held up the beverage as they stopped outside the parlor door.

“Hey! It really is magic!” Liam grinned and laughed with delight. 

Isaac’s stomach dropped and he groaned as they entered the room.

“Well look at this. If it isn’t the Whittemores’ charity case.” Theo smirked and folded his arms as he got up from the couch that Isaac had planned to take Liam to.

“Ugh! He’s probably been following us around all night like a creeper.” Tracy fake gagged as she rose to her feet and draped herself around her boyfriend.

Isaac tried to back out of the room, but someone entering behind him shoved him forward.

“Get out of the way, spaz!” 

Isaac cringed as he recognized the voice of one of Theo’s friends, Donovan Donati. Like Theo he enjoyed being mean just for the sake of being mean.

Isaac darted his eyes around the room, taking in the other faces. Josh Diaz was sitting in Mr. Whittemore’s wingback chair, looking smug. Another lacrosse jock, Nathan Pierce had been sitting on the couch with Theo and Tracy and was now standing next to them, regarding Isaac with a predatory look. 

“Maybe you should leave, man.”

Isaac snapped his head in the direction of this new voice and realized Corey Bryant was in the corner of the room. Isaac hadn’t seen him at first. Corey hadn’t made his suggestion in a cruel way but rather nervously. Isaac wasn’t sure why Corey hung out with this group at all. They treated him like shit and made him the butt of their jokes when they didn’t have a more convenient target like Isaac around.

“Yeah, we were just leaving.” Isaac tried to step past Donovan, but he pushed Isaac again, making him lose his grip on Liam.

Liam stumbled and took a slow fall, ending up sitting on the floor with his back against the coffee table. “Hey guys!” Liam waved and tilted his head backwards as he looked up at Theo, Tracy, and Nathan. “You’re upside down.”

“You’re drunk, dumbass,” Nathan told Liam.

Liam got a goofy smile on his face and nodded. “Yeah. Isaac was gonna take me ta bed, but imma jus sleep here.” Liam folded his arms on the coffee table and put his head down.

“Excuse me,” Isaac said quietly to Donovan as he tried to step around him. 

As expected, Donovan shoved him away again. “Where do you think you’re going?!”

“Hey watch it!” Josh shouted as Isaac tripped over his feet and landed on the floor on his ass.

“Goddamn it, you are such a klutz.” Nathan kicked Isaac away as he bumped his legs.

“Let me help you.” Theo bent and fisted the front of Isaac’s shirt, yanking him roughly back to his feet.

“Can I go?” Isaac asked, careful to avoid meeting Theo’s eyes and provoking him.

“Can I go?” Theo mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “No, you can’t go, shithead. I’m tired of you fucking around with my friends.” Theo lunged forward, slamming Isaac against the wall and pinning him there. “First Jackson and Lydia, then Danny and the twins. Now I see you flouncing in here with your hands all over Liam. What the fuck is your problem? You’re like a disease infecting everyone with loseritis.” 

Theo laughed at his own dumb joke, and Isaac braced for the beating he knew was coming.

“You know what I think his problem is?” Tracy said, stopping Theo just as he raised his fist. “He’s too uptight.” She picked up a couple of half-empty red cups and poured one into the other. “I think he needs a drink – or ten – to loosen him up.”

Theo smirked at her and took the cup. “That’s a good idea.” 

“I don’t drink,” Isaac said in a quiet voice. He tried to push himself away from the wall, but Theo gave him just enough slack to slam him back again.

Theo cleared his throat loudly and spit into the cup.

“You’ll drink this,” he said, grinning darkly as he swirled the cup around, “and as many more as we say.”

* * *

“You were incredible,” Lydia whispered into Jackson’s ear as she straddled his waist in the hot tub.

“Yeah?” Jackson ran his hand up her thigh under the water, his fingers grazing over the thin, sheer fabric of her bathing suit. “I did score more points than anyone else.”

“I think you’re going to score again before the night is over,” she whispered, breath hot against his earlobe.

“Hey, um, Jackson?”

Jackson flinched and looked up to see some nerd whose name he couldn’t remember standing by the side of the hot tub looking at him. He recognized the guy as the loser who willingly subjected himself to Theo’s abuse for the sake of being part of his little pack of assholes.

“What?” Jackson demanded, glaring at the guy.

“Theo...Uh, Theo–”

“Aww, did Theo hurt your wittle feelings?” Jackson asked with mock sympathy, pursing his lips in an exaggerated pout.

“Jackson!” Lydia slapped his chest and climbed off his lap. “What did Theo do, Corey?”

“He’s bullying Isaac, and I thought maybe you’d wanna know since he lives here.”

“What?!” Jackson sat up and climbed out of the hot tub. “Where is he?”

Aiden and Malia had been sharing the hot tub with Jackson and Lydia. They too untangled themselves and got out.

“He’s in that room with the couch,” Corey answered, taking a step back as Jackson and Aiden crowded him.

“Dude, there are like eight rooms in my house with couches, which fucking one?!” 

“Uh, come on,” Corey said, turning and motioning for them to follow him.

Danny and Ethan were making out near the sliding glass doors that lead back inside the house. Jackson pulled them apart and gave Danny a serious look as he walked past. He heard Lydia filling them in on what was going on as he stormed through the house after Corey. 

The ‘room with the couch’ ended up being the parlor. Corey stepped aside as Jackson flung the door open.

“You’ll drink this and as many more as we say,” Theo was saying to Isaac as he shoved a plastic cup in his face.

“What the fucking goddamn hell?!” 

Jackson ran into the room and knocked Theo away from Isaac, causing Theo to stumble sideways and spill the drink in his own face.

The room erupted in shouts as Danny and the twins struggled with Josh, Nathan, and Donovan, while Lydia and Malia argued with Tracy.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Theo threw the empty cup at Jackson’s face and lunged for him.

As soon as Theo’s hands connected with Jackson’s chest, he twisted and flung him against the wall next to Isaac, who was still leaning where Theo had left him with a shell-shocked expression on his face.

“We’re supposed to be friends!” Theo yelled, trying to break Jackson’s hold. “But you’re committing social suicide with this weird-ass antisocial freak!”

Theo made the mistake of reaching over and grabbing Isaac’s arm.

“Don’t touch him!” Jackson snarled and slammed his fist into Theo’s face.

Theo gasped and sank to the floor as Jackson let go of him.

“He’s my brother!” Jackson shouted. “And if you or any of your ass-licking goons so much as look at him wrong again I’ll break every bone in your fucking worthless little bodies.” Jackson kicked Theo’s legs and whipped his head around the room, making sure he had everyone’s attention. “Now get the fuck out of my house!”

Jackson turned and grabbed Isaac’s arm, reminding himself not to be too rough as he pulled Isaac away from the wall.

Aiden caught Jackson’s eye and smirked at him as he shook Donovan, whose arm he had twisted behind his back. “You want us to take the trash?”

“Yes, please,” Jackson answered, smirking back at his friend.

“By the way, your nails are disgusting and your hair looks like a crow’s nest,” Lydia said to Tracy before turning on her heel and following Jackson out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Feedback is always greatly appreciated.


	8. The Bonding

Isaac struggled to make sense of what was happening as Jackson hit Theo and knocked him to the floor.

“He’s my brother!” Jackson shouted at Theo. “And if you or any of your ass-licking goons so much as look at him wrong again I’ll break every bone in your fucking worthless little bodies. Now get the fuck out of my house!”

Had Isaac heard that right? Had Jackson really just threatened Theo Raeken, his friend and one of the most popular guys at school, in order to...protect Isaac? It didn’t make sense. Why would he do that?

Jackson grabbed Isaac’s arm and led him out of the parlor and back up the hallway to the living room. 

“You okay?”

Isaac nodded and tried not to flinch when Jackson’s hand brushed his shoulder. 

“You want to stay down here or go upstairs?” 

Isaac glanced at the grand staircase that dominated the center of the expansive living room. Surrounded as it was by noisy party-goers it was nevertheless the more appealing option since it would take Isaac to the safety of his bedroom. 

“I want to go back to my room.”

“Okay.” Jackson’s hand again landed on Isaac’s shoulder as he followed Isaac toward the staircase. 

Isaac stopped on the second step, realizing that Jackson was still behind him. “I got it from here,” he said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He was still shaken up, and he appreciated that Jackson hadn’t abandoned him in the sea of people around them, but he didn’t need to be escorted like a child in a busy mall.

“I’m coming with you, dumbass.”

Isaac frowned but said nothing as they ascended the stairs. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to lock himself in his room and not come out until everyone had left. He wanted to pretend this night had never happened...Well, maybe not the _whole_ night. He’d had fun hanging out with Ethan and Danny; he’d even enjoyed getting to know Liam better. It was the humiliating ordeal with Theo and his asshole friends that Isaac needed to erase from his mind.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” Isaac mumbled as Jackson followed him into his room and shut the door.

“Then fucking stop doing it,” Jackson answered with characteristic hostility.

“I didn’t _want_ go to the party. You made me.” Isaac folded his arms and sat on the edge of his bed. “I should have just stayed in here.”

“No, you should have stayed with Danny or the twins.” Jackson sat in Isaac’s desk chair and glared at him. “They would have kept Theo from messing with you.”

“Did you ask them to do that?” Isaac couldn’t stand the notion of Jackson’s friends _pitying_ him.

“No, they just would have.” Jackson sighed and shook his head. “Look, I do want you to stop embarrassing me. But this...this mess was on Theo not you. I’m done with him after tonight.”

Isaac’s eyes widened and his anger deflated. “Because of me?”

“Because he’s an asshole.”

“He’s always been an asshole, and you were friends with him before.” Isaac diplomatically avoided pointing out that Jackson was also an asshole.

“Yeah well maybe I don’t want asshole friends anymore.” One corner of Jackson’s mouth curled into a smile. “Especially if they’re gonna fuck with my brother.”

Isaac was brought up short by that response. He still didn’t understand why the brother thing was so important to Jackson. They had spent their whole lives living in separate homes, ignoring each other at best and hating each other at worst. Why was this one detail such a game changer for Jackson? As far as Isaac was concerned he still only had one brother, and he had died overseas five years ago.

Brother or not, Isaac felt guilty if he had ruined one of Jackson’s friendships. “But...don’t you like Theo?”

Jackson snorted. “Of course not. He’s shit compared to my real friends.”

Isaac nodded. He could understand that. He kind of liked Jackson’s real friends. Theo was horrible by comparison – and just in general.

“Next year you’re joining the lacrosse team,” Jackson said.

“What?!”

“Next year you’re joining the lacrosse team,” Jackson repeated. “It’ll be good for your popularity. If you want to quit embarrassing me, you need to stop being such a loser.”

Isaac huffed and opened his mouth to tell Jackson off, but Jackson continued quietly before he could.

“Because I’m stuck with you no matter what.” There was a small smile on Jackson’s lips, and he looked... _happy._

Isaac closed his mouth. Okay, the brother thing really was important to Jackson. That didn’t stop Isaac from protesting Jackson’s ridiculous suggestion.

“I don’t know how to play lacrosse.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Of course you’ll like it. It’s fucking lacrosse.”

“What if I’m no good at it?”

“Of course you’ll be good at it. It’s genetic.”

“I think you might be mixing up lacrosse and eye color.”

Jackson laughed and grinned at Isaac, and Isaac got the sense it wasn’t sarcastic for once.

“But Theo’s on the team.”

Jackson’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. It’ll be a great chance for us to crush him like Aiden and Ethan do when someone pisses them off.” Jackson hesitated for a moment then shrugged. “And we don’t have to just do lacrosse. We can do things you like too.”

Isaac blinked at him. Jackson was looking for things they could do together? What the fuck?!

“You know I might not even be staying here, right?”

“What are you talking about? We’re adopting you.”

“Only if my dad” – _our dad?_ – “is convicted. He might not be. There’s not a whole lot of evidence. Your parents only heard something that one time.” 

Jackson opened his mouth like he was going to say something but stopped. He left a few minutes later, obviously deep in thought about something, probably his social standing. After all, the secret that Isaac was his brother had just been revealed and Jackson had ended his friendship Theo. A lot of things were influx for Jackson. Isaac was just relieved that Jackson somehow didn’t seem to blame him.

* * *

“Oh hi, Jackson.”

Jackson gave a nod of recognition to his father’s long-time assistant, Mary Weaver, as he walked into the man’s law office on Saturday morning. 

“I heard about your big championship win last night. Congrats.” She smiled pleasantly at him.

“Thanks. I need to see my dad.”

Mary frowned. “He’s preparing for a big case.”

“This is important.”

She hesitated a moment then called through to Jackson’s father to tell him Jackson was here. Jackson crossed the room and opened the heavy wooden door to his father’s office.

“I know.” Jackson’s father held up a hand to silence him as he walked into the room. “I missed your game last night. I’m sorry. There was a development in the Landon Corp case and–”

“Dad–”

“Of course I want to make it up to you and I’m very proud–”

“Dad!” Jackson tossed himself in the chair in front of his father’s desk and glared at the man. “That’s not why I’m here.”

Concern etched itself across the man’s features. “Was there an incident at the party? Something I need to be aware of?”

Jackson automatically started to say no since he had already dealt with the ‘incident’ between Theo and Isaac, and he could handle any further fallout from it, but he reconsidered as he realized it was a good starting point for the topic he needed to broach. “Yes, there was. One of the guys from the team, Theo Raeken, was hassling Isaac.”

“Is Isaac okay?” Jackson’s father asked, his frown deepening.

“Yes, I stopped it before he got hurt.”

Jackson’s father visibly relaxed and a smile formed on his face. “Well done, son. I know the last few days have been hard on you, and I know I owe you...well an apology doesn’t cover it, for keeping the truth about you and Isaac from you all this time.”

“Yeah, you do. But that’s not why I’m here either.” Jackson gave his father a serious look. He needed the man to tell him that what he was about to say was ridiculous, a total non-possibility. “Isaac thinks we may not get custody of him, that his deadbeat father might get off.”

Jackson’s father sighed and looked away, and Jackson knew his concerns weren’t going to be allayed. “It’s possible.”

Jackson huffed and slammed his hand against the arm of his chair. “And you’re just sitting around working on a case? It’s just business as usual for you?”

The man looked stung. “I’ve been worrying about the outcome of Mr. Lahey’s trial since Isaac moved in with us, but apart from testifying about what I heard and counting on my reputation to carry some sway, there isn’t anything I can do.”

“You could be at home.” Jackson glared and folded his arms. “You could spend some time with us before it’s too late.”

The man inhaled and glanced at the sprawl of documents on his desk. “But if it’s not productive–”

“Yeah whatever.” Jackson stood and turned to leave.

“Son, wait.”

Jackson kept walking.

“Stay...please.”

Jackson paused with his hand on the door, finally peering over his shoulder as he heard his father making a call. It became apparent that he was talking to his partner in the law firm, and after exchanging a brief greeting with the man, what he said shocked Jackson.

“Listen, Bill, I’m going to need you to write the closing argument for the Landon Corp case.” Jackson’s father was silent for a few moments. “I know, but I’m having a family emergency.” There was another pause and then he continued. “Okay thanks. I’ll have Mary email you my notes.”

Jackson stared as his father finished the call and hung up. He stood, put on his coat, and gathered his things before rounding the desk.

“Let’s go.”

Jackson nodded and turned back to the door as his father patted his back.

“I really am sorry I missed your game, Jack. It was unacceptable.”

“I expected it,” Jackson muttered.

* * *

“Can you take our picture in front of the sarcophagus?” Mrs. Whittemore handed her camera to the museum attendant and wrapped an arm around Isaac’s back as she guided him toward the ancient Egyptian artifact.

Isaac snickered to himself and let the smile linger on his face for the photograph. After all the changes that had happened in his life in the last couple of months, he was nevertheless spending his Saturday afternoon next to a coffin. Although, strolling through a comfortable, climate-controlled museum with his would-be adoptive family was certainly quite a bit more pleasant than sitting on a backhoe under the blistering sun, alone and digging graves.

Jackson draped a casual arm over Isaac’s shoulders as his parents crowded into the shot around them, and everyone ducked and angled themselves until they were arranged together with a suitable view of the sarcophagus and the tomb recreation in the background. The museum attendant snapped their picture, and Mr. Whittemore laughed about something Jackson said about the exhibit as they separated.

Everyone was behaving strangely today. Jackson and Mr. Whittemore had arrived home that morning as Isaac and Mrs. Whittemore were finishing a late breakfast. Isaac almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing as Mr. Whittemore strolled into the dining room and announced that he wanted the four of them to spend the day together as a family. Isaac had been sure the man would spend all day at the office like he usually did on Saturdays. Weirdly Jackson readily went along with the suggestion without complaint, and he had been in a suspiciously good mood all day. Perhaps strangest of all was that it was late afternoon, and Mrs. Whittemore hadn’t had a drink since the Kir Royale she’d consumed at breakfast. She had even forgone cocktails at lunch. Her streak of sobriety appeared to be at its end, however, as she called Isaac over to a display case featuring Egyptian jewelry from the second dynasty, and Isaac spied her silver flask peeking out of her purse.

“Would you stand right here, sweetie?” she requested as she nudged Isaac sideways until he was directly between her and Jackson and Mr. Whittemore’s line of sight from across the room. She hunched over and lifted the flask. “David fusses when I drink in public.”

A cold knot formed in Isaac’s stomach, but he reminded himself that she wasn’t like his father. She had never hit him or raised her voice when she was drunk. Her drinking wasn’t any of his business.

“Would you like a sip?” She asked after taking a couple swigs. “It’s a very smooth gin.”

“No, uh...” He hesitated, unsure if he would offend her, but when she gave him an expectant smile, he continued. “Alcohol makes me uncomfortable. It reminds me of my dad.”

Her eyes widened and her face dropped. “Even with me?”

Isaac gave a reluctant nod.

She screwed the cap back on the flask and dropped it into her purse, then squeezed his arm. “Sweetie, I would _never_ – I didn’t realize you– I’m sorry, baby.”

Isaac shrugged and dropped his eyes. 

She threw her arms around him with a dramatic flourish that he had grown to find endearing. “I’ll do it privately from now on.”

Isaac knew he should apologize and tell her to do whatever she wanted, especially in her own home, but instead he returned the tight embrace and muttered a quiet, “Okay, thanks.”

After they left the museum, they went to a movie and then out to dinner at a seafood restaurant Isaac had never been to. Isaac knew what this day was about, why Jackson was being nice, why Mr. Whittemore had taken time off: the trial for Isaac’s father was set to begin on Wednesday, and if he were acquitted Isaac would be leaving. He’d be going back to his old life. Instead of family outings and evenings spent studying with Jackson, he’d be working at his father’s cemetery and hoping to be spared from a night jammed into the freezer in his basement. The Whittemores would probably try to check on him; he was sure they would let him come over whenever he wanted; Jackson might even continue to sit with him at school; but none of it would matter. His father would make him cut off contact with them. He’d only be living a street over, but it would be like a world away for all it would matter.

Isaac licked his lips and tried to say what he needed to say. He wanted to take Dr. Johnson’s advice. He wanted to talk to his new family about his fears for the trial, for his future. He couldn’t. Everyone was in such a good mood. Mrs. Whittemore was making plans for the summer. Apparently there were a lot of places they _had_ to go, and Isaac was going to need a passport and a new wardrobe, and he needed to figure out which countries he wanted to visit first, and wouldn’t it be lovely to spend a week along the Mediterranean? Then Jackson started griping that they couldn’t be gone for too long because he needed at least a month to make a decent lacrosse player out of Isaac for next season, and they had to start preparing for the PSAT, and Isaac was going to have to consider taking AP classes next year. 

Isaac tuned out the surprisingly friendly argument they were having about his future and poked at his half-eaten dessert with his fork. He looked up when Mr. Whittemore nudged his foot under the table and gave him a reassuring smile.

He reached across the table and patted Isaac’s arm. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Isaac nodded and forced a smile onto his face. He didn’t think it would be, but the least he could do was pretend.

* * *

Jackson spent the car ride home that night psyching himself up for what he had to do, and by the time they walked into the house, he was ready.

“I need to say something,” He said, catching their attention and leading them into the living room. He waited until everyone was situated before he continued. “I want to testify at the trial.”

His parents exchanged glances, and Isaac looked at him with surprise.

“Did you hear anything that night, son?” Jackson’s father asked. “Weren’t you listening to music in the hot tub when it happened? I know you want to help, but lying under oath–”

“I heard it before I went to the hot tub.”

Jackson’s mother gasped and Isaac’s cheeks reddened. Jackson continued before anyone could interrupt.

“But that night isn’t what I want to testify about.”

“It might help. The more witnesses–”

“I’ve known about the abuse for years. I heard it for the first time when we were in middle school.” Jackson looked away from Isaac and his mother before he could see their reactions, squaring his eyes on his father instead. “That’s more important right? Establishing a pattern of behavior.”

“You knew?!” 

Jackson flinched as Isaac leaped to his feet and crossed the room to stand in front of him. 

“You knew all that time?”

Jackson nodded, careful to keep his face stony as he ignored the swell of emotions crashing over him.

“You knew?” Isaac repeated, his voice trembling, breaking along with Jackson’s defenses.

“I didn’t even like you back then,” Jackson answered, pleading with his eyes for Isaac to understand. “I barely knew you.”

“All those years” –A muscle in Isaac’s jaw twitched as he gritted his teeth– “and you didn’t do _anything?_ ”

“I didn’t know we were brothers.” Jackson grabbed Isaac’s arm, but he yanked it away. 

“We’re not.” 

Isaac turned and strode out of the room without a backward glance.

“Sweetie, wait!” Jackson’s mother got up and ran after him, but not before she looked at Jackson with obvious disappointment.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jackson’s father _sounded_ calm, but Jackson knew better.

“It wasn’t any of my business.”

“We could have done something!” He wasn’t quite shouting but his voice was raised. “We could have gotten custody of him years ago!”

Jackson folded his arms and glared. He wasn’t the only one to blame for this mess. “If you had told me the fucking truth this never would have happened!”

Jackson’s father opened his mouth but shut it again. He took a breath and let it out slowly. “I think you better go to your room.”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

Jackson stormed out of the living room, refusing to give his father the satisfaction of knowing how upset he was or how much he regretted not coming forward about what Isaac was going through.

* * *

Isaac avoided Jackson all day Sunday and did his best to ignore him at school on Monday. It wasn’t completely possible since they rode together, and since Jackson once again gathered his friends and sat at Isaac’s table at lunch, but Isaac stuck with dismissive one- or two-word answers and tried to pretend Jackson wasn’t there. He knew it was childish and that he was pushing his luck with Jackson big time, but he was mortified that Jackson had known what he was going through for all those years, and he felt weirdly _betrayed_ that Jackson hadn’t done anything about it.

Isaac was sitting on his bed working on his chemistry homework and resisting the urge to go ask Jackson for help when there was a knock on his bedroom door. Before he could get up to answer it, Jackson walked in carrying a box.

“Dude, privacy!”

“Sorry.” Jackson glanced around the room as though he expected to find something incriminating.

“What do you want?” Isaac asked, eying the illustrated box Jackson was balancing on one arm. It was a game of some kind, still wrapped in clear plastic.

“I got you this.” Jackson approached Isaac’s bed and thrust the box at him with a facial expression that was part-hostile, part-expectant.

Isaac took the game and read the title, _Race for the Galaxy._ It featured a space design with a large spaceship and a planet on the front. “I don’t understand.”

Jackson sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s a gift.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed as he looked up at Jackson then flipped the game over and examined the illustrations on the back. It looked cool, but there was an obvious problem. “I don’t have anyone to play it with.”

“ _I’ll_ play it with you, dumbass.” Jackson took a seat on the edge of Isaac’s bed. Some of the hostility had faded from his face, and now he just looked expectant.

“Uh okay, thanks I guess.” Isaac dug his thumbnail into the crease between the boxes, tearing the plastic wrap so he could open it. He wanted to see the cards.

“Do you like it?” Jackson asked, gathering up the loose plastic Isaac dropped on the bed and leaning over to toss it in the wastebasket by Isaac’s desk.

“Yeah, I do.” Isaac smiled at him and lifted the top of the box off the game. He was still mad at Jackson, but he got the impression that Jackson didn’t give people gifts often and that this was kind of a big deal for him. “This looks fun.”

“Good.” Jackson exhaled in a way that sounded suspiciously like a sigh of relief. “I know you like strategy board games and space stuff, so I thought you’d go for it.”

Isaac raised his head from the rules sheet he had just picked up. “How’d you know that?”

“It was in your file.”

“My fi– Oh yeah.” Isaac laughed as he remembered the questionnaire Mr. Whittemore had made him fill out when he first moved in and the dossiers he’d received on Jackson and his parents. He still thought it was an utterly absurd way for Jackson’s father to get to know him, but just as he had grown to appreciate Mrs. Whittemore’s exuberance, he had grown comfortable with Mr. Whittemore’s dedication to efficiency. He chuckled as he realized that the fact Jackson had actually taken the time to memorize Isaac’s responses was also comically characteristic of him. 

They went over the rules, but as Isaac was shuffling the cards he remembered something. “Wait a minute. I talked about liking strategy board games in my favorite memories answer, about playing games with Cam the summer before he shipped out for the army.”

“Yeah.” Jackson shrugged. “So?”

Isaac set the cards down and glared at Jackson. “So you were trying to copy a memory I have of my dead brother? Do you not see how fucked up that is?”

Jackson narrowed his eyes. “Our dead brother.”

“What?”

“Every time you mention Cam you call him your brother, but he was my brother too.”

“Oh really? Did _you_ spend a week crying when he got killed?”

“No, because _I_ never got to know him at all.” Jackson clenched his hands and scowled. “I don’t know anything about him except that he used to go jogging in the morning before school and that he knocked over our mailbox one time because he wasn’t paying attention when he was backing out of your driveway.”

Isaac laughed at the forgotten memory. “Cam was a terrible driver. I was legit afraid for my life a few times when I rode with him.” He grinned and laughed harder as he realized something.

“What?”

“He drove just like you! You actually have that in common!”

Jackson huffed and folded his arms, but there was a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “I am _not_ a bad driver.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m not!”

Isaac picked up the cards and started dealing. “No worries. I kinda like being the best driver in the family.”

“I haven’t seen you drive yet. I bet you suck.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” Isaac looked at his cards and glanced back at the rule sheet to be sure he knew what he was doing. “I’m going first.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still gonna get your ass kicked,” Jackson answered as he organized his hand, flipping cards over and changing the order. 

“You wish!” Isaac rolled his eyes and made his first play.

They ended up playing three games, and Isaac won two of them. They were both competitive, and at a few points Isaac was sure that their trash talk and light teasing was going to escalate into a real argument, but one of them – surprisingly not always Isaac – managed to pull back each time before they crossed that line. By the time they finished, Isaac had gotten pretty good at figuring out when Jackson was legitimately getting angry or upset, and when he was just playing. 

They worked on homework after their games, and Jackson helped Isaac study for chemistry. Things took a more serious turn as they were putting away their things for the night.

“So, are we okay?” Jackson asked quietly as he stood up from Isaac’s bed. “About me not saying something sooner about–”

“You didn’t say anything _at all._ ” Isaac dropped his books on his desk with a thud and frowned at Jackson. “If your parents hadn’t heard it, nothing would have ever changed.”

“I know,” Jackson answered, staring at a point on the wall over Isaac’s shoulder, “and I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Isaac shrugged. “I guess I’m not still _mad,_ but I’m not over it either.”

“Are you gonna get over it?” Jackson seemed genuinely anxious, and it made answering easier.

“I want to.” Isaac sank into his desk chair. “My therapist wants you, and me, and your parents to go for a group session. And I think we should.”

Jackson hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Thanks.”

Jackson clapped Isaac’s shoulder as he walked past him to leave. “Night.”

“Night,” Isaac answered as Jackson pulled the door shut behind him. 

He listened as Jackson’s own door opened and then closed. There was something nice about sleeping across the hall from his brother again, even if the circumstances, and the brother, were very different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I’m tentatively planning three more chapters and an epilogue. Next up is the trial. 
> 
> Feedback is always greatly appreciated!


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